The City, from Afar

The road follows the right angles of everything out here, farms, townships, counties, states. On either side, fields showing stubble. Thick gnarly trees mark homesteads and cemeteries. Where the land is flat, or gently rolling, which it mostly is, the snow slips patiently over the shoulders, and overnight it has congealed into a hard shell. The sun is low and bright.

“So where do you live?” the driver asks the visitor.