Dating : Mile Markers

So she said, “Let’s drive.”

Drive some place where our problems
can’t find us,
Where our grievances and troubles and stresses
and daily misfortunes can’t sneak up from
behind and drag us to the dirt.

Drive somewhere — anywhere that the
hurdles of Life don’t exist.

But could we find such a place?

Where could the worn out treads of these tires
possibly take us as an escape?
A hundred years ago it was probably feasible.
Today, a life of relative obscurity
is damn near impossible.

So she said, “Let’s drive anyway.”
Maybe we’ll find somewhere on the road
to anywhere.

Let’s drive until all our cares melt away as hastily
as an ice cream cone on a humid Summer’s night.
Let’s drive until all our worries are just tiny
specks of nothingness growing increasingly
smaller and smaller and smaller
by the mile marker before disappearing into oblivion in
our rearview mirrors.

Let’s drive until all our stress withers away
like the newspaper memories
inside the fireplace of our Souls.
Let’s drive until our map has no more roads left, even
those few left undiscovered.

And if we have to let’s drive to the moon — as star after
glimmering star bounces off our windshield
like a soothing afternoon rain.

But what about our responsibilities? They’ll just be
waiting for us when we get back.

So she said, “Then let’s never take
our foot off the gas.”