I grab the keys to my home on the go,
The place where I spent the last year-
on the road.

The year before is foggy,
just like the windows on my car,
one January evening. The passenger seat
is empty. I breeze by Archer Avenue, approaching
Ashbury coffee house, remembering smoking
American Spirit blues, and flipping cards while
not complaining about the bitter burnt coffee.
All my friends have moved away, but I still
look in my rearview mirror seeing mirages
of the people who were in the past.

In May, the flowers bloom again, I drive
on the open roads, which transformed in a tunnel
of luscious trees, and everything is finally green again.
My birthday rolls around, like it does year to year, but
someone new is beside me, this is so much different from nineteen.
The receipt I held on to since December fell out of my wallet as
I pay for more gasoline. That receipt is the only memento
I have left, from the night you met me.

July brings the sun, and the warmth that I needed.
I go for a drive, and the pavement is dry. The windows
are forever open in my car, and friends finally forget their
busy lives to go for a drive. last year, felt different, as we
have all matured. No matter how old we get, I think
we will always be friends, belting out that sweet catchy summer tune.

In October, I drive the most, thinking of how the year
is winding down. I sip on my latte, and look at my town.
I think about how one day I won’t just be hanging around.
So much has changed in just a short year, but the roads
have not. The passengers change season to season.
I reminisce about the past, but worry about the future.
Will these roads go on forever?

-e.k. fm