Stop, Don’t Stop

First Poet: The eye wanders over an unfinished work of art and hopes that it will never be completed.

Second Poet: yet there are innumerable rest stops along the way

bitter coffee in chipped mugs

ordering "today's special"

pretending to fight over the last slice of rural pie

standing in a dusty gravel parking lot beneath a rising moon

the inescapable scent of freshly mown alfalfa perfuming the night air

cattle rustlers you only hear about

lonely couples leaning against pickup trucks

atypical country swing music

sawdust across dance floors

coyotes prowling where the streetlights end

 

the last cherry Lifesaver from a roll is a sign

that finishing is okay and you can say

‘this is my stop, let me off here”

 

[LSS & RK, 3/6/2026]