shoulder, wheel

Guitar's in the back seat. Car's pulled over to the side of the road. Killer is out peeing on a rock. Now he's run round back the car after some shiny black bird. He barks and the bird flies up. Long tail, black like oil on the tarmac, little yellow eyes. Elvis standing out in front of the car. He has his hand out flat, shading his eyes, looking off down the road ahead. Well? I say. Naw, he says, not even halfway there yet.