As butter-n-beef laze in grazing fields,
we fly six feet above their corn-fenced ponds,
black dirt and green impounded by grey skies;
this drab stone highway pointing us to Galesburg.
Iron tracks below and copper wires above conspire,
whispering where next this bus will stop.
Burlington Trailways seldom breaks for food.
We who have other plans dare not step off.
Over Illinois the beef-n-butter graze,
and we are hungry enough to join them.
Written on the bus between Burlington and Peoria. Although traveling gives me ideas, it doesn't always give me the quiet time for writing. Plus... I'm usually not bored enough when looking out the window. I write more when bored or depressed.
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