Somewhere in Iowa · Carol Borzyskowski

We drive unmarked back roads
illuminated by stars and a full moon.
Behind us a small town high school
gymnasium, a wedding reception open
to the whole town, and the remains
of a meal catered by Colonel Sanders.
My sister Nite thinks I’m lost.

I wait for illumination on this observation.
Directions to the DeLite Motel off
County Road 22 would be concrete
information, why Friday night can shift
to Sunday morning without hesitation,
the mute testimony of empty wine bottles
staggering to the trash, helpful.

Lost in the not too much at once
moon illuminated road offering second
chances. Side roads beckon from shadows
presenting opportunities to orientate myself
here, and on paths that lead to territories
of faith unexplored but pinned to my sky
like Luna over my left shoulder.

Lost in the night with Nite and the moon
panic flares red behind my eyes like a super nova
exploding my thoughts which vacillate sharp/crazy
and dull/normal. Sharp make the moon sing and hurt
my eyes, crazy makes me breath deep and smell the stars
normal dances with Aunt Marly at the reception
dull makes me reach for global positioning system.

So Nite, if lost, I am not alone. And the facts are
I am driving, and we have both had several cups of warm
beer and need to pee. I could continue to explore my place
in the universe with drunken logic, racing the moon
or fine-tune my six position seat with lumbar support,
adjust rearview & side view mirrors, breathe deeply
then check the GPS for our exact location.