Some Place Went To

You can drive this old truck outside.
There are a lot of roads, but not all are paved
And not all are roads.
The door opens like it's exhausted of doing so.
It has a voice, like all the other parts in there.
You can sit in the seat that's the shredded victim of decades
High above what you're used to in your regular car.
You can see out the window past a single windshield wiper
Into a fence, but what more through?

This truck will drive through a field
A field that would normally cut or mist your bare legs
You would normally hear 1000 horny insects in that field
But the truck is old, and the engine is large, and loud
So you only hear the antique roar on the wind.
But those cicadas are still hollering.
And there are probably other things hollering there too.
And maybe someone else is at a distance, and they can hear all that
plus the muffled distance of your truck.
They might think that you're disrupting nature
Or they might think the sounds go nice together, layered.
Or they might think nothing about it at all
Because they're horny themselves, and maybe they're even doing the deed, right then and there, in the middle of a field.
And you may see this from the cab of your truck,
or you may not.

While gears shift inside the truck and make it work.
A person shifts inside the truck and moves with it.
Wind hits the truck, or does the truck hit the wind first?
The truck shifts inside the open air it tramples through smoothly
Not young, but not finished.
And it's days are numbered in miles.