by 
The Wagon
I sat in the front seat,
she was driving.
On a small back road
we passed an Idaho farm.
Mostly dust now, and sparce brown grass.
There was a broken, withered wagon
abandoned in the front yard.
Now midday sun blasting the shadows out,
just gone in the brightness.
Every crack and busted plank
of that wagon was illuminated.
I saw myself in this.
Much older, wrinkled, grey.
Alone, but illuminated.
by 
Fuck! it’s only 7:54am and I’ve already cried in my beer. Thank Pineapple!