Full Moon

I was driving a VW Bug in need of work on Route 66

Somewhere in New Mexico in the dead of night

When I looked in the rear view mirror to see if a semi- tractor-trailer might pass me—

When one did, it shook the car so I had to hang on tight to the steering wheel,

And there it was, a gigantic full moon taking up every inch of that tiny mirror.

Pulled to the side of the road, got out, knelt in the dirt

And wrapped myself in the natural awe of such a sight.

Seemed like it was a wondrous time to pray,

But to whom and for what?

Just thanks, I guess, for letting the moon sneak up on me

During my hour of being lost.

It hung over the highway, leaving barely enough room for an oncoming semi.

Stayed on my knees a few feet from the road until the air horn blared.

Finished standing up by the time he roared by,

My balance undone by the massive displacement of air.

It was here that I built a shrine of rocks and tumbleweed

To commemorate this great moment.

            –September 1971

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