A bead of water rolls down the pane

Logs roll by
Five trucks in a row
One letting his exhaust brake belch
Trees line the highway
Waving branches like a cheering crowd at a race
Celebrating the exhaust brake's belch more ecstatically

More beads roll down the window

A boy in an orange reflective vest runs to the pump
He slouches against the rain until he's under the roof
He talks to a man inside the car and starts pumping the gas
Last time I was here the sign read
"PowerBall Jackpot $70 Million"
Now it says "Cold Beer"

The rain is pouring harder now

Everything is grey
The waitress pours me another cup of Joe
"Do you know what you'd like yet?"
"Biscuits and Gravy," I say
I'm glad I don't have to go out there
I don't even want to look out the window