A Poem by A.J. Huffman
was a bullshit dead end. 3,472 miles past
the point where I lost my patience
with its pot-holed Im-gonna-break-more-
than-your-car attitude, not to mention
its completely incomprehensible backwoods
draw[l]. Fed up, I stopped the car, got out,
pissed in the middle for spite,
turned around and walked
back to the familiar,
welcoming Hell from which
I came.
Our Day's Encounter 