But she hit me pulling out gravel road. Hot my breath smiles at strangers. Summer camp flannel cocoons me, three. Your wartime post borrows elbows and knees. Toasted onion pumpernickel bites into night spread along I90/94. Warm and silver smog flowing red and white bees. Breaker breaker one nine. Get me some tea love. Begging eyes and learned gestures lure Papa Bear. 18 wheels of lonely hard-ons congest Friday night. Maze of acceptance through Chicagoís cold veins. I have to pee. Truck stop at 1:03. Foreigners run with delight. His greasy brimmed hat eggs bacon and toast. Fill this with coffee please. My clean room, the bathtub and toilet buys Charleston Chew, Cheetos and gumball ring. Gary Indiana thatís the town that knew me when. But Gary Indiana will never be my friend. Goodbye. You stink anyway. Crammed into comfort. Tennis shoes under front seat. Smokey Bear eastbound at the 29. The static lulls me to sleep.