Into unknown

Where the road bends

at the edge of nowhere,

and yellowed, stony sand

gives way to short, straggly grasses,

then longer, spiked blades,

and finally tall daggers

shooting their leaves towards the sky.

The heat ripples the light,

now squashing, now stretching it

accordion-like.

And I see the ghosts of journeys long gone,

flickering in and out

as my mind brushes past their knives,

blades slicing into my thoughts.

Why does she present me

with this heavy, electric scene?

Should I drive on,

following the curve in the road,

or pick my way

through the upraised daggers

at the edge of nowhere?