RESTSTOP
By Erik Kestler

A restless man or woman
could use the interactive computer
that explains the history of the area
and its trees, cartooned leaf by leaf,

before the red and green buttons lose
their drone of appeal
and attention wanders
to the drink machine and its
transcendental fizz.

There are many people here.
The odor of human trampling is strong.

It is raining
and will continue to rain.
The LCD ticker tape warns
it is freezing to the roads.

Fear spreads like an oil
over faces, black in the dark.

The windows are steaming:
When I go to finger-draw Mickey Mouse
it looks like a post-nuclear Ronald Reagan

I want to leave;
they want to leave too.

Here we are.