steering wheel

i parked the Buick by the river. it was 5 a.m. the fog was thick. you couldn't see the water. it swallowed the mud bank. the rusted bridge was gone. tire tracks in the dirt vanished into white. everything on the other side ceased to exist. i lit a cigarette and rolled down the window. a wet yellow dog trotted out of the vapor. it stopped by a crushed Pabst can. sniffed the aluminum. then it kept walking and the gray took it back. ash fell on my steering wheel.