Turn off the radio
and drive.
Just the road noise
and the vehicle
of my repentance.
Four wheeled confessional,
exists in moving meditation.
To, or from here;
it doesn’t matter.
Just a short commute,
or a jailbreak.
A loss retired.
A weekend getaway.
Man and machine
move as one.
Check the rear view,
and the side mirror.
Change lanes,
take my exit.
No remorse.
No apologies.
Heading home,
or never turning back.
The wheels turn
and away I go.
HG – 2019
