Riding the Freeways in Oregon

There must be millions of
pick-up trucks
waiting to be born to replace
the ones crowding the freeways
with pretty blondes behind the wheels.
There’s no such thing as flying saucers,
they’re really pick-ups’ trucks
and the aliens are checkered-shirted
unemployed mill workers

zooming by with a beat-up vinyl chair
sitting on the flatbed
with a kid
with a mud-streaked face
staring out at you. And always a mangy
mongrel dog gone completely mad
from intense wind chill,
barking insanely for all it’s worth,
at everything in existence.