The hum of the wheels against pavement
whir of air through the windows
and nothing else

No music-
because what would be apropos?

-and no voices
because I'm not talking to my self today

'cause I wouldn't listen anyway
Old job and friends behind me
a warm bed and a chair that holds my imprint
behind me

The sound of surrender is too low for me to hear and
300 miles isn't far enough away.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.