On the road
once again
through the towns known and unknown
to another pit stop
at the end of a never ending journey
passing red, green, blue, black cars
beacons on the path to something illuminating
or just machines with machines in them
the trees that relay the news of my arrival
stand still, dancing only for the wind
there are some who will be left behind
some who will get there before anyone else
but all must traverse, they must embrace
the tarmac and its tenacious friction.
