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Click herePassed Midnight two hours ago
the road ahead, miles to go
some perceived destination
half-way ‘cross a sleeping nation,
We could stop, stretch our legs
a note to write, a diary page
underneath the desert stars
back-road highway void of cars,
As we gaze a meteorite
arcs across the lonely night
to be found years from now
as some farmer starts to plow,
Moon is dark, the Milky Way
like an arrow points the way
way we’re heading, way we’ve been
things we might do again,
Should we have sex? or should we not
little chance we’ll get caught
like strangers that meet in a bar
backside pressed against the car,
It feels nice, it always does
all that is and all that was
stand there naked for awhile
night breeze through the turnstile,
Back on the road, the road again
back to where it all began
rolling tires of discontent
both of us half hell bent,
To do it all in record time
to the top quickly climb
fun while it lasted, and still fun now
at least as much as they allow,