The drums beat, slow and steady, slow and
steady, the music picks up the pace, and we
all bob our heads. It’s our favorite
song. In our minds we are acting out what
it makes us feel. “Don’t you worry,”
says my face but inside my head is
a different scene.
This is the song I hear when
I pass that little blue baby every day.
I’m lucky the speed limit is only 15 ‘cause
my eyes are glued to the rearview
mirror. If it was even 20, I’d fear for my
life.
I face the road daydreaming as night covers
the sky with it’s blanket and fog creeps up on
its back. “Don’t let ya spirits get ya down,” I remember
someone once advising. That little blue baby is
exactly where I first saw it in its predictable state. I imagine
if I got in it, my hair would blow in the wind if
the speed was right.
Paint peels on its side, the only downfall.
Touch that up, will do. We always think we can
make things better that way but it covers what will
appear again. Putting on the blinders and acting like it’s
okay when all along you just want to see.
I turn the volume up; my eyes and thoughts turn
to see what’s next on the road. I bob my head, look
in the rearview mirror one last time, for
memory’s sake, and pull out of the dusty trail. Maybe
that little blue baby will shine again one day and with
the right speed, my hair will blow in the wind.
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I need a job for the summer...any ideas?
have a good Sunday, buenos tardes :)
