Slept by a flat mud
reservoir with sandhill cranes
way out here
in the dragging wind.
We go for breakfast
smelling like sage, cow and creek water,
small town diner
a new mural half painted across old brick.
Remember how the waitress accuses us
of stealing postcards of their local boys
I tell you, she will not relent
despite all our defending
in our bright polypropylene fleeces
and reflective shoes.