Isuzu

Isuzu rests aside of the city
like a boxer sleeping in the ring
the family's heirloom keeps calling from the bathroom
that the phone rings

the bathtub's running over
you're in a metal construction rolling for cover
along rusted barb wires
separating hatted men from their cattle moans
with a passport that expired
hours ago

the belt straps you to the seat
winter on the tapedeck
the car's driving for hours and days
when your scarf tucks you in like a baby
all you can do is sleep

with the coffee and the road maps
with the news paper and in the trunk our backpacks
we feel like the goats on the side and in the gutters
yellow outlines of the road are shepherds in our heads
in our hearts in our guts and lower