Tehachapi south down with dust in the mouth

And hills that spin under wheels,

Wild lilac gray, and sunflowers sick of the sun,

And the grade run.

Faint in the ears like a shout the shifting of gears

High on the grade behind, and ahead

Easing out on the road that takes again

The smooth speed of the plain.

The earth bent up into folds yellow and spent

Now passes in pale grass

To a new horizon, farther and more neat,

Cut clean with heat.

The round high pipes following low ground,

Lying apart, bear at heart

Water, water, for men’s throats. And the breath

Of the town is in the teeth.