The sun hasn't risen yet
the black hatchback opens up on the Lee Bridge
in the rear view mirror the city shrinks minuscule
as I forge forward at a steady pace of fifty
No matter where My destination is
the reason is always the same
escape
like a thief in the night
trying to put some distance between me, myself, and I
daydreaming ceaselessly as traffic flows on every side
the front tire has a slow puncture
the door panel barely hanging on
in much need of an oil change
driving alone below the aspersions cast by unwanted eyes
as the rain slowly comes down to blind and cleanse
I never got to say half of the things I wanted
and I know that I won't write half of the words inside me
so I'm impatient
laying on the horn
and flipping old ladies on their way to church the bird
faces not seen enough to be memorized
hands not felt
laughter never shared
these things haunt me
holding their flickering candles to the bottom of my feet
Driven now
the sun hasn't come up yet
which is good
because before it does
I have some things that I need to do