Bad Lands Poem by Richard Jarboe

Looks like I'm in the Bad Lands,
Whizzing by the prairie,
Going over my travel plans,
And try'n not to worry.

I'm out here in the Bad Lands,
Cruise control busted brake pads rusted
Driving ninety miles an hour,
Past Custer's Last Stand.

Some people passin' a truck speed up,
Some people slow down and linger,
When they finally pass the truck,
I pass them by and give 'em the finger.

If the gas tank's full and you don't have to pee,
You could drive on indefinitely,
You might be haunted by memory,
But the next exit could set you free.

Sittin' in the car sucking pills of nicotine,
Try'n to keep from getting antsy,
It's a rental car, you know what I mean?
Smoking in the car is chancy.