Fly rods
In the back
Camera riding shotgun

A deep silence
Like a rogue wave
Moving over me
As I drove along 

Doors hanging open
To the April air
A man on a roof
Squirting silicone into cracks

The front of one home
Completely and recently gone
One could look in all the rooms
Like one of those toy houses

I fully expected to see someone
Sitting in a rocking chair
Or sitting in the truck
That sat in the yard

A Doors song
Played in my mind
A figure up ahead
In the middle

Of the remote empty road
I slowed
A hunched old man
Carrying a shotgun

Chasing a dog
I wanted to stop
Take his photograph 

But a self preservation instinct 
Kicked in
I did not want to
Join the dog

In his impending 
And before

Two guys sat in their truck 
Eating sandwiches 
Watching me fish
The roar of the water

Filled the sky
Drowning out everything
We were alone
In the big old empty