What’s that creature up ahead, is it crow or goat?
Did it trip across the road or on the heatwaves float?
Did it hop or did it skip, or lift its wings and fly?
On these sunburned western roads, mirage deceives the eye.
Long journeys are enlivened by trivia like this,
It beats by far the radio, or cans-full of warm piss;
And for those of you on safety bent, who roll your eyes and moan,
At least I’m immersed in wonder, not on the bloody phone!