Out on the road you are neither lost nor
found.
You are streaming, as they say, the past and this very moment, in
perpetuity.
You bite your lip as you twist the unraveling
cover of the steering wheel beneath your cramped hands and edge up slipped
glasses with your index finger , if you're wearing them, and wonder where all
those rings and bracelets you used to wear went.
You can sit up a little straighter and locate by touch alone your glass jar half filled with warm stale water from who ever knows where .
You could be passing through any kind of town out along the western seaboard, or find yourself flush against Four Corners again , only a something on a map, really, surrounded by nothing but tumble weeds and the tangled long broken lines of fence that stretch as far as the blighted horizon .
You could be angling into a parking space in LA, convulsed with the thick press of cars and people and fancy clothes and raucous competitive signs and too many upscale smells.
Or you've pulled over, maybe , and find yourself immersed in the cool green beneath some glade in Arizona, where the stream swells against your thighs , and your mouth anymore only knows songs
You can sit up a little straighter and locate by touch alone your glass jar half filled with warm stale water from who ever knows where .
You could be passing through any kind of town out along the western seaboard, or find yourself flush against Four Corners again , only a something on a map, really, surrounded by nothing but tumble weeds and the tangled long broken lines of fence that stretch as far as the blighted horizon .
You could be angling into a parking space in LA, convulsed with the thick press of cars and people and fancy clothes and raucous competitive signs and too many upscale smells.
Or you've pulled over, maybe , and find yourself immersed in the cool green beneath some glade in Arizona, where the stream swells against your thighs , and your mouth anymore only knows songs
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