Southbound Among Stars

Up in the truck's high cab
bounding south in my springless seat
I am looking down the long
furrows of corn to the blue verge
of earth

Inside my chest
a dark bird is banking
on wings swept against the dusk
as we slow and swerve
for the ramp

Ten feet below me
the big wheels are loping steadily south
like big unthinking animals
tracking this highway to its hidingplace
under the horizon

Behind my closed eyes
I soar in open space
half a mile between wingbeats
a wild beak in my brain
gives its cry

Long after dark
while I'm nestled close behind a fence
under a thorn tree at the edge
of the Indianapolis airport,
my empty seat goes bounding
westbound without me

I must rest here
halfway down the long migration
southbound among stars
in this place I half
remember