Radiator

The engine revs and my insides are jostled

with high hopes of finding solace in solitude;

not disillusioned by a detached feeble state,

but revitalized by emptiness in desolate plains. 

Smoke fills the cab and precautions are taken

as I realize that sometimes shit just happens. 

You can spend all day preparing for the storm

but the flood still drowns out the plans we made. 

Billowing through the clouds, they mesh into one

great ambiguous precipitation charade, it dissipates

and reveals what the weatherman couldn't-

Tut tut, it looks like rain. 

Environments change and heads become clear

and the rhetorical modern man is put to shame

by dissociation of modernity in it's entirety. 

Mountain men know the secrets of the land.