i remember this spot by the highway marker. it was 310 or maybe 315. i rode almost home, all the way to san antonio with a real west texas buddha. a tow man who had a gun in his waist.
i could die at any moment. i count the deer carcasses. i keep driving anyway.
i want to pull over to pour some water out where my car broke down last year. i gathered a jaw bone with teeth intact while i waited for the tow man.
we’re at the mercy of when they feel like it. i’m here without compromise but i’m down to sacrifice.
