Coastal Cruise

The open road beckons,

It calls to my soul.

The night makes speed

As I trace the coast.

An adrenaline pump

Like a fucking rocket

Dumping its load.

Under the sun

I slow a bit

Just to see the sights.

The mountains to my left.

The Pacific to my right.

With that whole stretch

Between me and my home

I am more myself.

Wild, free, full of choices

And alone.

My prized possessions

All fit in the back.

My guitar, my bongos,

My books, my laptop,

My tools and my tracks

In one or another supported format.

My car is my oyster

In this shell of my being.

Without this escape

From a humdrum town,

I’d have died in my sleep.

Trapped in my prison

As the walls come down.



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