It's like asking for directions in a foreign land
in a language you hardly understand.
Or halting in the dust of a desert road
to nowhere - nothing to do but turn
back, the road
potholed with promises
jolting the spine as the sunlight fades
across the windscreen. It's like the view
receding in the mirror, shrinking to faintness -
and now it's gone - and so you press on,
if only the wheels keep turning who knows
what may come over the blur of the horizon:
something for sure, something unlike this.