Hannah haunts this darkened highway Her face is pinched in the headlights glare She has one hand to her collar closed The other in the air She is grateful for the dashboard heater She rubs her hands and fusses with her hair She lights a cigarette with a battered lighter Blows the smoke into the air “I'm going east to see my daughter I've got a grandson nearly four. They moved away to Minnesota, No, I've never been before. I've lived my life in the western mountains; Work was hard but you didn't mind. Me and my husband built our lives there The bills were paid on time. But he got sick three years ago, And he took too long to die With no insurance and just my income The doctors bled us dry. So I took what was left and I bought a car To look for work and to start again But the Goddamned thing blew up this morning I've been standing here since then.” Hannah's in the highway café Her eyes are on the TV screen She says “four more years,” and shrugs here shoulders “This country's turning mean.” And an aging actor fills the screen; His hands in triumph in the air His eyes show sincerity and emptiness In the TV camera's glare She said, “I've seen elections come and go And there's one thing that's for sure There's one thing this country won't forgive It's the sin of being poor.” “You can drop me here,” she said, some hours later “I want to thank you for the ride.” So she gathered up her poor belongings Took a grip on dwindling pride I left her standing on a corner I never saw her face again But the words she said went through me And I was suddenly ashamed For I am rich beyond all measure Not in money, not in fame But in love, and trust, and friendship For her it's not the same. I can see wild geese, like smoke, across the western sky The gleam of sun on winter hills Clouds like banners, crimson, in the air When the evening sky grows still. Hannah haunts this darkened highway I see her face from time to time Hidden well in darkened corners Far from where the lights of freedom shine.