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  • Jimmy Broccoli

Truck Stop

Updated: Nov 18, 2020

I splash my face with the water from the decaying toilet

at a dirty truck stop restroom off Route 66

The faucets are dry, like the sun and wind outside,

my skin burned and hot from the lingering rays

The restroom smells like years of urine

and smeared poop on the mildewed tiles

Filth attacks cracked porcelain,

a semi-shattered mirror and neglected dented stall doors

Ancient graffiti decorate the concrete walls

with aging phone numbers and amateur scribbling

As I exit the restroom, the unforgiving air stabs the air

as perspiration saturates my worn out t-shirt and faded jeans

The landscape is littered with long, dried up weeds struggling to exist

Never-ending dirt for miles and cacti

Not far from the antique gas pumps are rusted

and seemingly abandoned trucks with broken windows and flat tires

The dull and discolored truck stop sign looks down at the ugly topography and the neglected, scattered piles of trash

Next to the dilapidated building

The asphalt of the disintegrating road

Brags of mirages and far off places

A parade of vehicles pass by my extended thumb

As I walk backwards towards nowhere

Anywhere is better than this


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