cigarettes exhuast and air..

driving..

Five Twenty Five in the morning and the engine is roaring, my foot is on the pedal and I'm doing roughly eighty miles an hour, my left hand holding a lit cigarette and the wheel at the same time as my right holds on to the stick. The lights are dim on the interstate, the darkness is ever so tiring, I'm breathing in smoke, cold fall air and exhaust all at once. I move my right hand to grab my cup of coffee, and I drink the bitter sweet concoction of caffeinated bliss as my mind wanders slowly and surely from the concentration of driving to thoughts of my imagination, my dreams, my memories, my future, my past, my son, my family, my friends.. I am everywhere but at the same time I am still on this long black top stretch.

My mind racing through different ideas, different concepts. Just trying to figure out answers to questions, crossing my I's and dotting my T's per say. Randomly; I'm wondering if I should stop by to get gas, if whether or not I have the time and energy this early in the morning. Cars slowly start to appear on the road and I pass them, they appear to me like card board cut-outs or something from an old 1960's chase scene where the car is really at a stand still but my background is continuously moving. I am Steve McQueen in the film Bullitt, I am reckless and I am at ninety five miles an hour now.

To what do I owe this recklessness to, nothing but perhaps a daring thrill, I'm slowly creeping to one hundred and five, and I am still in a space in my mind where time has paused for me and I have taken this time to analyze and reorganize the folders within my mind, archiving memories and dreams. My exit comes up and I finally release the pedal, the motor roars ever so gently as my speed retracts, I'm once again concentrated on the here and now, which turn I must take and which light I must stop and go at..

"Unconsciously maybe I'm running from something, anything, everything.. I'm running from what hurts." - Ryan D.