#Day 563: Living The Dream

The road was always to me

What a good night’s sleep

Was to the people of slow times.

I lived for sleepless nights

And sweaty hitch hikes.

The roar of the engine was

A dragon breathing fire

It set every part of me alive

And currents shivered through me.

I lived for endless drives

Shallow ponds were no more mine

I waited for the strangers’ dive.

Bated breath, poor singing

June dust storms, heavy breathing

Walking down lonely highways

Leather jackets, soiled boots

Dusty faces and empty water canteens

A bottle of jack and

No signs in sight.

The pulse of adventure

Raced through my veins.

In the course of my dreams

I walked canyons and riversides.

In the depth of darkness

I caught hail in Jersey

And sunsets in Texas.

It was all alone in my room

That I painted my dreams.

I wheeled over to the window

Stared into the same street I saw everyday

The same trees and the same shadows.

I was living it, you see

On canvas and paper

In the corner of my poorly lit room

Humbled by suburbs and silence

I was living in the bustle through my brush.

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