Steering wheel
On the road I explore an old farm
never leaving the car
I pass a hit doe
she is beautiful
the sliding door of the hayloft
hangs on by a hinge
bits of machinery litter the ground
the grass
a line of birds sit on a wire
all in a line, save a few
who have perched further down
a semi sleeps on the side of the highway
the rows of corn are a card catalog
I never tire of passing fields,
farming fields
three semis pull tractors
rachel weiss
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