Cold grey eyes stare down

A long stretch of lonely gravel road

A back road through the back woods

Towns almost too small to name

But large enough to hold the secrets

Of the traveler as he passes through

Small town blues

Offer small town views

Through small town hues

From sun up to sundown

The traveler is a hunter

Blood rust caked hands

And muddied boots the only clue

Soon washed clean

By a man who is anything but

The traveler stays in the shadows

Hidden in plain sight

An outsider on the outskirts

Of an indifferent world

This only seeks to ramp up his quest

For only those who come to know his face

Wish they never had