I am a dot on the map.
Let's say Minot, North Dakota.
You are a bigger deal,
maybe Moline. The distance between us
is a thin blue line
whose crooks and curves cradle
truck stops and old diners.
Every now and then,
a couple shares the same side
of a corner booth and wetly
breathes into a nervous
first kiss and the rumble
of semi-trucks flutters
in their guts and never
will they go back home
to the same cool beds.