Nowhere

I missed the turn to Parkfield but it didn't matter anyway since I had nowhere else to be.

The road rose into and over round mountains. Then eventually I passed onto a wide, desert plain. Everything withered and brown.
A sign at its fringe "High Winds and Dust Next 16 Miles".
Occasional cattle muddled together or spread far like seeds.

I came to a crossroads.
Bright red gas station on its own.
Two Mexican truck drivers walked back to their rigs.
Dragging their boots.
Trying to light their cigarettes in the wind while the sun let nothing hide.