Via the 80

I saw the farmlands and the city married in the valley.
I saw the manmade monsters taxi down their runways for an impending takeoff.
I saw the puffed messes of water vapor hanging suspended just over the horizon.
I saw the skirt of the Wasatch, ruffled as far as vision can stretch.
I saw the abandoned tracks and cars of railways long past their prime.
I saw the salt flats, that great sea of brine, become a desert around me.
I saw the studious truckers, patiently fanning the fire of American economy.
I saw the miles of aging telephone poles and their parallel wires.
I saw the highway soak up oily drips from indifferent vehicles.
I saw the setting sun bleed orange through the haze over the mountaintops.
I saw the lonesome Nevada highway towns of Battle Mountain, Lovelock and Carlin.
I saw the purposeful factories in the distance as they mysteriously smoked and churned.
I saw the fields of green shrubs contrasting the white sand from which they sprouted.
I saw the dark silhouettes of the hills past Pumpernickel Valley.
I saw the single-file milemarkers glint green in my passing headlights.
I saw the miles count backwards toward zero.
I saw the midnight lights of gas station sanctuaries beckoning to traveling shadows.
I saw the steeped canyon walls rise up on either side of me.
I saw the wise and wayward eyes of Reno as he greeted his numerous foreign visitors.
I saw the pregnant belly of the gibbous moon watching over us in her ocean of black.
I saw the sweet city of South Lake Tahoe, welcoming me as an old friend.
I saw the familiar highways merge into street signs and stoplights.
I saw the warm nocturnal lighting of an empty carport.
I saw the steps leading to an unlit porch.
I saw the lights dim in time for my eyes to see no more.
And I saw home.

[West Point, UT to Cameron Park, CA 08/14/05-08/15/05]