old trees and telephone lines
houses and cars, all night burger joints
steel and chrome, the moon shyly shines
on. Running beside me like a crazy phantom
new towns and old rounds
familiar landscapes from behind the tinted window
50 kilometers more to reach city so-and-so
aimless, formless, but not entirely artless.
brittle leaves scatter at my wake
the moon is still abroad, following me.
all night rides in the countryside
calm and soothe me
before they unruffle. my mind in a tortous route
dizzying swoon, purposeless trip.
i drive past your place. breathe the air that you breathed out a minute before
did you cut the grass today, or sheared the old leaves away
swept the yard clean or set up the barbeque grill?
been to shut the gate, said sorry for being late.
glanced out from your porch while listening to the news
did you feel me passing by
or was i just another highway sigh?