Night 129: Pilot Truck Stop, Virginia

I finally pushed enough buttons in the proper sequence to get the diesel heater working ... now to see if a fan can get the warmth all the way back to the bed. Moved the chair and box out of its path. I had hoped to get a free shower, but I think I missed my connection with the employee who was setting it up, and I'm not feeling bold enough to hang out in the store and ask incoming truckers if they have an extra shower pass. What's one more day?
There's an E. E. Cummings poem I think of as the sun sets and the moon rises. It's always been a magical time of day for me.

who are you,little i

(five or six years old)
peering from some high

window;at the gold

of november sunset

(and feeling:that if day
has to become night

this is a beautiful way)