booth four

i pulled the car off the old road. needed to take a leak. walked up to the dead toll plaza. they built the new highway ten miles west. now nobody pays a toll here. the glass in booth four is smashed out. there is pigeon shit in the plastic coin basket. a crushed pack of Pall Malls on the floor. i finished pissing against the concrete barrier. zipped my pants. looked inside the booth. an empty coffee cup on the counter. a dead moth beside it. a yellow dog trotted across the cracked asphalt. it didn't look at me.