Red Mountains, White Desert, Who Cares

So, there I am: wedged between my bag
and baggage on the back of a pickup!
Left and right of me, the rest of the world
as ruddy mountains and glistening sands
and the mirage of a quivering road somewhere,
just as in a simulator
only that it’s played in reverse mode;
who cares.

And then the airstream rushing past
my face harsh and hot, I could hardly
catch a breath. And if they’d crashed the truck,
I would’ve ascended to the heavens
in the blink of an eye, grinning with a row
of twinkling teeth, amidst the stench
of burnt asphalt, rubber, and plastic.
I didn’t feel a thing, yes, that’s it,
didn’t feel anything!

Not even myself.
Where did I come from? Who cares. To where
was I headed? Who cares! In the place
of a horizon, not even a foggy clue.