one last night
in this eerily
fabricated
pseudo nothing
off the highway
fifteen miles
from shreveport
a depressed
off ramp leading
through a depression
of the american
idyllic daydream

this is not
a building meant
to withstand
the annals of
time immemorial
but a transitional
cash grab for
eager explorers
seeking gator
and spanish moss

i vibrate on
the same temporary
forever the
architect once
dreamt of drawing
except we both
have settled into
our insignificance
longing for the
things we were
never destined
to clench closely
sketching robotically
to pay the bills
passion growing
farther and further
behind swallowed
by billowing clouds
of angry red dust

swimming in the
potholes on the road
to the american dream
as the traffic
screams by uncaring
nights like these
you can feel just
how little god cares
and assuredly
the feeling is mutual