Brown Road

by G.T.

I’m in the mood to drive,
but a destination I
can do without.
On a road with no
speed limit I will
press the throttle
to the floor and close
my eyes, or ease off
it, and fall asleep
behind the wheel, in
the backdrop of
a rural expanse.
Coast across the barren
cornfields and not care
they will soon sprout and
grow shopping plazas.
The future can’t touch me;
I’m not headed that way.
The past I already fixed
by breaking the rearview
mirror; I need no luck
on a road of emptiness.
On this drive I
procure only exhaust
and take from it
only the scenery.