The pickup is in pieces. Or at least was made up of pieces that have long since disappeared in eighty seven years since it was put out together or have been picked like fruit from a tree, gathered up in a harvesters basket or have fallen to the ground and have been swallowed by the dirt, wet or dry.

Not a tire remains. The head lamps are empty cavities that used to hold the light of seeing across dark nights of gravel or dirt roads, bringing one home from the day of work.

The window glasses are gone, each clear and clean letting you look in as easy as looking out. The metal chrome straps across the flat-head six engine compartment have started to break down, one loosining itself from the rivets, and the top one dissapearing on its own. The bed walls are gone, and this ship is anchored here, by two trees astraddle of the back axle, growing up from young limbs, into full growth. It is now anchored here; through wind, and rain, combs of snow, and the heat of the summers day. Winter will soon break, leaves will grow back on the trees, the grass will turn green again, as the truck keeps up its migration to the ground.

Ralph Peck

Photo by Ralph Peck

Outside of Ripley, Oklahoma