I have no desire to befriend snakes or to see them
slither across a gravel road in a forest in Southwest
Illinois. I’ve too many troubles already, I suppose.
Why invite more? We leave home too late. It gets
dark in September in the forest at 3. Snakes will
have done what they’re gonna do & will be
hidden in some wad under a pile of cool stones.
We drive 2 ½ hours to buy turkey jerky & a pack
of cigarettes at a Hoosier convenience store.

We trade danger for smokes, turkey jerky, vinegar-and-salt
potato chips, stale coffee & Mountain Dews. The corn fields
are tired & the tips of hardwoods harbor a smidgen of color,
the usual golds and coppers, eye-catching oranges and fire
reds. The winding roads make me dizzy. I think about
the snake bite kit that we didn’t need stowed in the trunk.
It comes with the territory.