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The bus is shaking through the plains.

The WiFi died three towns ago.

I’m looking through the window panes

at nothing much but corn in row.

A rusted silo stands alone,

a hollow tooth against the sky.

No one calls this place their own

as the heavy wheels go rolling by.

A single wire, a sagging line,

is all that holds the clouds in place.

I’m looking for a human sign

in all this flat and empty space.