he drove on back roads out to the Ohio line…through small towns and hamlets…places with old churches made of wood…and front yards with old pickups parked in ’em…kids catchin’ a baseball with no gloves…trees as tall as the sky…

thought of songs from the past…old Hank Williams…some Buck Owens…hummed along with the radio to some song by Tammy Wynette…made his heart ache…daydreams of her…

she used to like these long drives in the country…in Spring when there was a freshness ’bout earth…she’d stick her head out the window and let her blonde hair shake in the breeze…kick off sandals…painted toes on a dashboard…stoppin’ for trains and kissin’ wildly as cars lined up behind ’em…they didn’t care…

and there was always evenin’ birds singin’ away when they stopped at a Dairy Queen to get chocolate dipped Dilly Bars…frogs croakin’…a yellow moon high in the sky…few stars connectin’ to make the big dipper…he’d point it out to her…

he drove on the back roads out to the Ohio line…that’s where he died…found him in his truck with the mornin’ Sun comin’ up…radio playin’ some gospel song ’bout washin’ your sins in the river…cleansin’ your soul…

he never got ’round to that…