Maynard Hartman

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Best Poem of Maynard Hartman

The Vagueness Of Night Travel

He slammed the hood down,
was like a judge with a gavel.
I felt the tug of my string—
beginning to unravel.

Attendant started to sing,
as my tires spun gravel.
Down the dark way—
I began to travel.

What does one say
to oneself on the way
of an uncertain journey
down a desert highway.

How does one hide
from those things on the side
of a lonely dark
highway night ride.

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