Isolation in a Passenger Car

I descend from the higher Rockies to
Deer Lodge, very much the high plain.

At 3 miles sun reflects from a window.
The land coincides in its one identity,
except this window soon to bounce its
light to dialectical dark of the cosmos.
Personally I can not challenge the sight.

Greedy for the compensations of space,
I refuse to broadcast my fugitive fantasy
of my isolation at rest in a passenger car.

But for beauty, I rue my caterpillar pace
slowed on my itinerary, too short of Butte.