Pink Poet #4

Where The Highway Meets The Road
By E.S. Wynn

Where the highway meets the road, a man stands alone, unsure. He waits on the corner, breathes in the sweet autumn air and knows that the end isn’t all that far away. The horn of a Mack truck blares in the distance, and then he is there, in the truck, the driver, melding with the rubber and the steel. He knows that this moment is the future, that he is the truck, the driver, the trailer, the pounding motor, the squirrel crushed beneath its tracks. He is all and none, everything and nothing, the man who stands but does not run.

In the distance, a rooster crows, and with the resolve of a hundred fallen kings, the man puts one foot on the road, takes the eternal first step.

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