My first car was a Pontiac;
Winding down
County Road 577,
Hand atop wheel,
A boy and his machine,
Letting snow swoop by like
Hyperspace.
I miss those quiet rides.
But dreams dissolve, evolve,
And I’ve another tangent
Upon the tip of my
Tongue –
Something, somewhere,
Somewhen, fitting,
And prior another attempt at sleep.
A play on a "Boards of Canada," song, and only because I remember listening to, "'84 Pontiac Dream," in my '88 while learning lost in more than one way come the weathered county roads of Michigan.
