Driving there in the rain

Big old Pontiac with chrome shining like black dreams.
God, we were there
hiding in the shadow cast by the world.

The tires were hissing like something frying in a
stranger's kitchen.

Lord yes, I remember nights like that.
With my denim jacket cold and clammy against me.
My hair plastered to my head and cigarette smoke stinging my eyes.

It was held between your first two fingers. You’d lift it up and flick the ashes out the top of the window. Lost back there somewhere in the whipping wind and random drips
that found themselves sliding down the inside.

Drops in patterns on the glass, wipers chirping across.
Beer bottle tucked between my legs.
It all distorts between the wiper's passes. Headlights coming at us with lights reflected in the streaks
Like laser beams of imagined spaceships.
The radio plays Led Zeppelin. I think about Buck Rogers movies I’ve seen in the middle of the night.
On a black & white TV

The hood is as wide as two tomorrows.
Front bench seat with you beside me
head on my shoulder.
I was wishing that the future wasn't a dream.

Are we there yet?
Still miles to go.
I remember those nights. Two fingers on the big wheel. Tiny movements making us drift across lanes
Chrome horn ring and a winged indian head.
Idly tasting blood from a cut lip, and pain in my knuckles.

Wondering where the hell any of it had gone
or when I'd find it.

At this speed, I sure as hell won't be able to see it unless its in front
of the headlights.

Then it'll be too late.
No time to brake, just watch the show unfold

The road to somewhere else always leads here.
 
 
 

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