Sue Ellis

The view through the truck´s
bug-spattered windshield
took her breath away--
the oil rig strung with lights
like a rocket poised to launch--
tanker trucks in queue,
headlights piercing the dark.

It didn´t matter,
that the town had no gluten-free bakery
or nail salon.

She´d get by on corn chips and love,
wash dishes in the camper´s tiny sink
with water clouded by fracking--
isolate herself at the man-camp,
hopes narrowed
to the full hook-ups they´d have
once payday rolled around.

Hopes narrowed
to the few hours each day
when he wouldn´t be at work.