I stopped to buy gas
outside the Elkhorn diner
where people pause.

on their way to somewhere
or nowhere, their lives intersecting
while drinking coffee, eating hamburgers,

dousing ketchup on french fries
and poking quarters into the jukebox
to listen to a country song

they hum. I pumped gas,
clipped on my copper tinted sunglasses,
yawned my way to I-70

on my way to somewhere
and began sipping coffee from a styrofoam cup,
watching steam escape.

I gazed ahead
where brown grass
and cobalt sky are one.