Buc-ee’s at 3 a.m.

 

We relent
to the lure of adventures
under blue night sky,
indulge
in the gluttony
of a pre-dawn brisket sandwich
 
and stay loyal to this,
our tired-wired spontaneous
highway survival pact
 
communing
with the fellow travelers here:
awake,
embracing the world of flesh and fluorescent lights,
soaking in
this brief comfort,
respite
from the cruel asphalt
and nonstop drive
 
outside,
standing on stained pavement,
pontificating in
half-lucid lateness chatter
before the pagan idol
of a bronze beaver,
 
we dine like kings
and feel alive.