The landscape undulated beneath white blankets.
Belgium was wearing it's favorite fog-filter.
The gas tank needle trembled on empty.
Conversation was asleep on the backseat.
Faded stars clung to the page of an overturned magazine.
The radio reception was reflected, dissonant, erratic....
a natural eerie scratch that kept the driver awake,
or at least not dreaming.
The passenger lifted her face from the seat,
feeling the imprint of the seams
across 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."
