Background Poiselessness

The highway mumbles
beyond the useless trees:
"Places to be"

To have to be some
odd where evens its 
hand with the jack
of diamond tire 
changes, purposeful
in flat moments
when busy turns 
dusty

I let my resolve crumble
in the crusted face 
of a dissolute moon
as unsure of its
place in the sky at noon
as I am of my traces
on the green glass
of our broken
bottle device