Black ribbon of highway
A nocturne with no moon, of
sighing tires and rumbling engine and
a wistful goodbye to all the things I’ve never needed
Too much to ride and I need
a drink or a broken down hotel’s sagging mattress and
fuzzstatic radio trapped in some starpierced stratosphere between
Mexican talk shows and country stations out of Waco
A brawl in San Marcos
A blowout in Temple
Long miles of sage brush and Joshua trees standing like sentries in
my blind headlight
Eternal road that could just as well be a moonscape or
a lost highway on a foreign planet
Ride to forget
Ride to escape
Ride long enough to leave myself behind
Dry county
Dry air
Dry eyes
Dry soul
Just roll…
Just roll…
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