The Road To Nowhere. Fast.
The sky opened above me like manila envelopes.
Forecasting future decisions as bleak as rusted cubicles.
Dusty offices.
Windowless windowpanes.
“Be careful out there. It’s going to pour.” my mother said. But I probably couldn’t hear her.
Headphones tucked in open earlobes. Slapstick guitar strapped round my shoulder.
Ever have that feeling you just need to be, in motion?
I felt the ground shake beneath my dusty footprint.
Shockwaves rippling through acres of ant holes.
Antennas broadcasting the loss of lives.
Soldiers down.
Everything,
is in motion.
Nothing,
is constant.
I just couldn’t sit still in my room all weekend.
Not another weekend.
I opened the passenger door to my shotgun accelerator,
Automatically,
slinging my guitar on the cushioned front seat.
Sometimes you just need a drive.
Westbound. In the Driver’s seat. I pressed.
Ignite.
Shifting gears. Into Drive.
Automatically.
“You’re such a pussy.” She said. “You never take any chances.”
I was always looking at X-girlfriends through rearview mirrors.
Eye sockets fixed on open roads.
All gassed up.
What becomes of us? When we’re gone.
Fresh legs at twenty-two. Itching to see the world.
From a different point of view.
Eleven days past commencement.
The ceremonial parcel of mail.
Parties over. Face the real world.
What’s real?
We’re your loan servicer.
Your network providers.
Six months til the End of Grace.
Period.
You owe.
Restructure.
Debt.
Consolidation.
Payment Plans.
Construct.
A Plan.
Is it too late to take it all back?
College bound.
B.S. in Biology. But you really haven’t mastered it.
We’re all so focused on the future.
I followed,
parallel lines painted along asphalt highways for miles and miles.
At what point do two lines intersect?
The air pushed past my bare hand,
palm out, windows collapsed.
Have you ever felt the future?
Wind swept, hair back, rush past.
State Lines form Artificial Divides.
You can’t carve this land.
Don’t even try.
All I ever wanted, was to be Alive.
Hours pass. Gas.
Fossil fuels are killing my carbon footprint.
One day we’ll drive on air.
Deep breaths. Oxygen fills my lungs.
Road Signs signaling Rest Stops,
ahead. I turn.
Signaling.
Sometimes you just have to laugh.
Stomachs empty. I smile.
It hurts to laugh.
All rest stops are the same.
Nothing is constant.
Glass doors shine,
illuminating shadows of smudged palms
and glossy fingerprints.
If they had an elevator, I’d ride it to the first floor.
I overhear a man say.
But, what if,
we’re already here?
Hesitant. I enter the courtyard.
Claustrophobic.
Bodies cluster along heating pads.
Hot lamps.
We eat animals here, A sign says.
We are Animals, another man shouts.
I gasp for breath. Just coffee for me.
Black.
Do we really have to eat?
Maybe one day,
our bodies will run on air.
Poised to leave. A ray of sunlight strikes.
Filtered through plastic windowpanes.
Synthetic.
It once
was glass.
Heading East. Her hair is in knots.
Shades of golden amber reflecting a golden age,
Now past.
Blue jeans beckoning me.
Purple tank top.
We lock eyes. She laughs.
Lipstick run ways.
I’ve always loved lips.
How did she know?
Why did she laugh?
The room tears apart.
Folds in half.
We’re on opposite ends of the Earth.
We’ve finally met,
at last.
“Where you headed?” She says softly, gently,
barely above the crowd.
I quiver.
Lips trembling,
As if the world weren’t falling apart.
Get it together.
“I’m headed.
Nowhere.
Fast.” is all i can muster.
Once again,
She laughs.
Her voice roars. A mighty
avalanche.
“What about you?” I say,
when, I finally get the courage.
I finally get the chance.
“Same.”
she says.
Her gaze open
and full.
I pause.
Silence is a path.
I never thought I’d get here.
On the verge of everything I’ve never known.
“Want a ride?” she says.
“We’ll split gas.”
I think a moment,
too long.
I am headed West.
Is it really such a terrifying thing?
To change direction.
Alter one’s path.
Is there a time and place when East becomes West?
At what point do two parallel lines intersect?
“Sure.” I say,
aloud.
“As long as we
never second
guess.”