Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Burning Tires

The smell of burning tires
On the grey heated highway
The glare of the horizon
And the mirage of
What looks like the ocean far ahead
As empty as the haze
That rise from the concrete road

The sunlight stings my eye
The darkened lens
Aren't helping
Against the fury of the
Great highway summer

The only way is forward
The only way is to keep driving
I stop to get a bottle of drink
That feels warm and luke
How disappointingly
But only quickly is that stop

I like the feeling
Of liberation
Of being on the road
Somehow the security of the insecurity
Of living a motel after the other
Uncertain about the next town
The next city

My settlement is as settled
As a bottle of drink
On a balmy evening
On a balcony of a stranger's house
A stranger that I have called family
If only for a week or two
As settled as a bed of rented blanket
As settled as a temporary affection
For a town a person a house

When I sit in routine
I start to imagine the smell
Of buring tires again
And start to see the summer's haze
And I wish for that uncertainty
That forward motion
On the road
To a destination
In mind and out of mind

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