quiet
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.