Vandal

My eyes were raw from the glare off the trucks,

the sun bouncing off chrome like a physical hit.

I stood in the stall at the I-95 rest stop

and read the history of the county in Sharpie.

But someone had taken a house key

and gouged a name deep into the metal.

The 'M' had silver edges where the paint

had curled back like a dead fingernail.

Whoever they were, they wanted to stay

long after the plumbing stopped working.