Wall Drug stands tall in South Dakota
placed in the middle of nowhere,
three thousand highway signs point the way,
a map to a hidden treasure
dry heat, AC pumping,
the shiny aluminum of motorcycles line the street,
dusty helmets, black boots
leather jackets, worn patches
rough laughter bursting forth,
smiles of carefree summers
homemade cherry pie,
pecan rolls dripping with glazed caramel
buffalo burgers served on a red tray,
homemade donuts fresh from the oven
5¢ coffee
with little cream, little sugar,
strong yet not bitter
a comfort against the summer rain pounding on the roof above
Western stores and wooden nickels
racoon furs and hats,
books with faded covers
hunting knives, hilts sanded to perfection,
fireplace carvings, each detail delicately whittled
floorboards packed tightly together,
the wood worn smooth by passing travelers.
railings, creaky yet strong
they have lasted throughout the years