Nortiado

The bus drops me off in the middle of nowhere.
I wait at the crossroads.
The smell of the cornstalks turns yellow.

Suddenly a cropduster appears,
and dives at me in anger,
the pilot’s white scarf waving August.

I throw myself on the road
as the plane almost lands on my back.
I run into the fields for cover.

Then I see a gasoline tanker
coming up the road.
I flag it down, and inexplicably

the cropduster slams into it.
All this is happening
as if it were a movie.

The cops arrive, the ambulance approaches.
My tie flaps in the wind.
God, grant me the strength to carry on.