Passage 9.

Why I’m alone in a car flecked with snow

will have to emerge from the driving snow.

 

Near Hartford the first windshield wiper failed

as trucks sucked me into the diving snow.

 

Should I spend the night near Joe’s gas station?

I too can compete with this striving snow.

 

Being late in Boston shortens my stay.

Horizontal winds blast thriving snow.

 

No lanes, no signs, just spinning- out semis’

Wrong-way headlights mock me with jiving snow.

 

I dare not pull over; I’m in the zone

of death. Blinking, shouting at arriving snow.

 

A beacon of hot food and coffee beckons

and I exit outwitting conniving snow.

 

Should I spend the night near Moe’s fast food?

Blindly onward in sleep-depriving snow.

 

Stubborn? Suicidal? Why am I here?

The courage of caffeine- reviving snow.

 

Dawn. Mass Pike rest-stop halts Jimbo’s madness.

Mute. Is there no meaning- deriving snow?