Texaco musings

She is a
hard shell of
feelings forgotten,
a thin sheath of
dreams gone cold.
The sun rises on
the steel box
where she sits,
warms metal
casts gold
through the glass pane
and a rainbow
on the horizon.
Lukewarm dreams now,
and a promise
of fairy dust
under blue skies.
Warm metal box
and cold dreams, or
lukewarm dreams
and a world beyond?
Grey bullets strike
the glass pane
and slide slowly south.
She shivers inside her metal box.