He decided to get a cup of coffee 
          at the drive-through window of the 
     gourmet coffee shop across the 
               street from the eye clinic, so he 
 
pulled into a parking lot that seem-
           ingly covered the entire expanse of 
     the earth in part from New York City 
                to San Francisco with ruts as big as 
 
the Grand Canyon and mounds of 
          broken-up blacktop as tall as Mt. 
     McKinley along the way. The parking 
                spaces had long ago departed for 
 
Shanghai. He passed a boarded up
          window of what had been a Brazilian 
     Steakhouse, a defunct Dollar Store
               and the welcoming sign of the store-
 
front hyper-evangelical church that 
          had once been a Family Video with 
     a porn section for adults only. He 
               maneuvered his way around the 
 
geography without getting a flat 
          or throwing the wheels out of line 
     like he used to be worried about 
               on the winding climb and descent 
 
on the one lane dirt road from 
          Phoenix to Roosevelt Dam, pulled 
     up to the window, ordered a 
               medium coffee and headed back 
 
home humming the tune, “They 
          Paved Paradise and Put Up a 
     Parking Lot,” which reminded him 
               of his old Kentucky home.