Interstate Driver

Copper-colored lightning
bangs against cast iron cloudsFat family caravans
saunter lazily across the lanes

Quickening, sprinkles become drops
Drops become showers
Showers become downpours
And the roadway disappears

Raging 18-wheelers
jockey for positions in a race

Tiny cars like this one
await imminent demise as they cautiously drive

I-94 swings
like a ribbon in my daughter’s hair

Memories intersect
On ramps, off ramps to the past
Lead me to dream of a future
And the roadway disappears

Pulling into town, directions followed
I like a drug runner make the drop and fly away

A long drive to return to things I’ve always know
but will never see the same again.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s