Analog Survival

The car gave a shudder and then just quit

on a shoulder where the weeds are waist-high.

I pulled the glass out, praying for a bit

of digital luck under a bruising sky.

One percent. A little red sliver of hope

flickering out like a match in the rain.

I tried to call the only way to cope,

but the screen went black and flat with disdain.

I stared at the surface, seeing my eyes

reflected back in the void of the glass.

A face full of panic and sudden surprise

watching the heavy, dark tankers all pass.

I don't know his number. I don't know the way.

I’m a man without a map or a ghost of a voice.

Just standing in the ditch at the end of the day,

waiting for a stranger to give me a choice.