Running in straight lines,

Just as the crow flies,

Steadily passing parallel powerlines.

Low-amplitude sine waves,

Carry their currents,

Held up by perpendicular poles.

The junction,

At the upcoming intersection,

Then shifts direction,

Bringing you past ranch-style homes,

With green pastures,

In lieu of downtrodden ghost towns,

Tagged with graffiti.

Transiently-

You survey the land,

From a comfortable seat,

In an iron steed,

With a one-track mind.

Scanning the outside,

All you find,

Is that you have lost yourself,

On the way.