behind the ridge line, a truck driver
backs his truck
into a barroom’s parking lot.
A girl, standing in front of the
bar, puffs on a cigarette.
The barroom door swings open
and shut as
a pizza-delivery man
exits, and
a bird, on a telephone line, dives
and disappears from
my sight–
all of which
has something to do with me
but
I am not quite
sure
what.