It's raining on the highway outside Winnie, Texas
Stephen F. Austin is staring across 288 to the prairies,
All the way to the Brazos.
Tires hiss and whisper, picking up the gossip of the semis
Long berthed in the bays behind Joske's and Foley's.
I'm staring at the grass; listening to a/c and the hum
Motion in my eyes.
Roads lie fallow in the dreaming afterward
Waiting for the grass to split their old skins
~~~~ you took me there.
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