Old asphalt beckons
Straight run to the mocking sun
Catch me if you can
Old asphalt beckons
Straight run to the mocking sun
Catch me if you can
Prairie crossings
Keeping time
With the endless swag
Of powerlines
Skimming along
The road unreels
Mile after mile
O’er canola fields
Intersections
And railway lines
Break the monotone
With highway signs
This poem’s kinda wonky
Now that’s a fact
But canola‘s tough to work with
I wish it was flax
A journey of a thousand miles
Begins with a centre line
I hear pavement’s texture
Know the coarse and the smooth
From the form of a wave in my ear
I feel it
Transferred from tires
To frame
To chassis
To the wheel beneath my hands
The pedal and floor beneath my feet
The seat enveloping my body
A single car approaches me
Then whistles by
The last I’ll see
Before sky fades and daylight flies
This world
In which
Imagination sings
This world
Appears to me
In dreams