duel

I know this road.

I know its scattered shrubs (low and dried), 

            its too close sun, 

            its heat lines lifting.

I know its aching climbs that turn and rise 

                                                       and turn and rise 

and then drop to the valley when the glare is 

                       too much.

I know its fringe of dusty scree, 

            its two-lane claustrophobia 

the fire that burned

the fire that is to come

the lake to the left, poisoned by a mining disaster

the rusted town

      hulking

      collapsing

      flammable

      fixed in time with 

malicious intent.