in-country

even back in
the world his
thoughts were
rooted in
highway driving
a monsoon of
memories washing
out the road markers,
navigation by sense,
by sight, his Coupe
de Ville, a hearse,
carry-all suit holders,
body bags leaking
cleaning fluids,
acrid as gasoline;
everything they touch
burns, even little
old ladies roadside
holding children
in their arms going
straight to hell in
a hand basket
wherever he passes.