As we crossed the unguarded border
between then and now
somebody screwed a fog filter on Belgium.
The radio was tuned to nothing at full blast....
a solid block of scintillating static
like a cheering crowd from constant nowhere...
an aural crutch propping the driver awake,
or at least not dreaming.
The sound and feel of going nowhere
was as jolting as hitting a brick wall.
His passenger arose uneasily
inspecting the temporary grooves of naugahyde marking her cheek.
"Oh, sorry, I must have dozed off.
Want to stop for coffee? I have to pee.
Did I tell you the story about my sister in Hawaii yet?
Where are we anyway?"
"We're lost.
If I don't find a road sign soon we'll turn
around.
I haven't seen anywhere to stop for coffee, it's too early.
Flaming baton-twirling hula dancers told you to stop following them,
they would
be diving off the cliff soon."
"Oh, right. Told you that one then.
Want me to tune the radio to a station?"
"No need, there is no station here."
As she leaned over the seat to turn the radio off,
they drove into a cow.
"Well, now all we need is the coffee and sugar."
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