tired sky

i pulled off the highway to santa fe to see about the rear right tire. turned off slowly toward the pavement edge and the bright brown sand. sky touching my face on this backroad highway to santa fe. kicked the empty tire once and kicked the graveled rocks once, too.

i put my hands on the graveled, bright brown rocks and lowered myself to the ground beneath the truck. dusted off my pants after i rolled on my back to lower the spare. thundercloud over the jemez mountains to the south.

pumped the jack slow and listened to the sweat from my forehead fall and wet the cracked asphalt near my boots. rear of the truck rising to the sound of metal pressing metal.

need me to get out, she said from the passenger window. ain't too heavy am i, she said.

i smiled to her and stood to stretch my back. dusted off my pants and looked back to her and smiled again. she rolled up the window and turned back toward santa fe. in the rear view mirror she touched her face and touched her lips and sipped a bottled water. a red-shouldered hawk sitting on the fence post across the highway looked at me. the tired sky still blue and white and gray.