Heat hits you in the face and though the dash reads 117 you still aren’t ready for it. Tires on your rig melt on fresh black asphalt and bright yellow lane lines waver. You consider drinking hot coffee from the Thermos you filled at a truck stop, something they do in Sweden when it gets hot. There is no traffic in either direction. No cell service. You see a lone tree in the middle of a vast desert plain. The only shade for miles. A single cow sits under it at rest. This $65K rig is useless. Gas will run out soon, then no A/C. You gather water bottles and the thermos. Leave a note on the dash in red-ink letters smeary with finger sweat. Start walking in flip flops for the last tree left on the planet, hoping this cow is the sharing kind as you silently apologize for every burger you ever had, making vegan death-bed promises, melting as you walk towards your demise.

Bio: Guy Biederman