Road tripping into memory? |
Into the gas tank I pour thoughts and the future. I know there is no escape, but for the time being my dreams lie to the west. Late afternoon sun in my eyes. sears, burns, like so many lies. I block it out the best I can, with the visor and my hand. I force myself to stay awake, Through disheveled hair, fingers rake. Behind the cloud sun hides, only a moment break it provides. A half full gas tank show my thoughts and dreams. I know that escape is in the simplicity of following the road into the west. In the middle of the windshield the sun stays, through the miles I fight its rays. The ground slowly swallows the sun, another day nearly done. This is the best time it seems; clouds, road, the waning sun beams. Colors range from pink to orange, to red; goodnight to the land the rays said. A near empty gas tank, my dreams are like so many fumes. This journey isn't about escape, just about the joys of giving into life and a journey west. I have driven away from you and the bright of day too. Only a few more miles to go, driving under the moon's glow. I must stop for the night, and wait again for sun's light to streak across the waking land, I will move once more, steering wheel in hand. Into the gas tank I poured thoughts and the future, knowing there is no escape, but for the time being my dreams lie to the west. |