Backroads and crossroads , winding journeys and volatile endings. As with one or the other it seems the time to move slowly, like a spirit in the mists. But as with both ,the time calls for one to simply go. Oh yeah, wait on the barista to call your name, but by all means snap that laptop shut, grab that coffee cup, count that change, throw that head back , get in that car and roll. Hit the closest gas station, blow the buttons off that suit, shed it like a serpent sheds its skin on the path the new growth. Slide those hips into old cotton cutoffs, a soft sloppy T-shirt and shoes made for flying. Top off that tank and put the pavement, the pain, and the towers in the rear view mirror. When one hits upon the crossroads, remember, deny them all and make your own path home.
Let the city become an afterthought and if you think the sparkle in lady’s eyes as she breaks your five dollar bill to pay that last toll as you roll for wide open country is for you, you’re correct. For she’s your sister in spirit, she’s been there, but the time and the world shackled her, and she could never find her wings to fly. Yes, she salutes you, and somewhere in the night as you watch the headlights fade out on the highway. Let your mind seek her out , her tired eyes and hardship numbed soul, the gunfire and sirens of her world. She’s thinking of you, the girl she was, the girl she lost. The gentle fields of her youth and heart calming countryside. The time when life was simple, before her spirit fired and the city’s siren song beckoned her to perdition. Send a thought her way, let her into your eyes as you roll past farms, fields and that big old world that on which today you gambled. Let her feel your pulse, the thunder of your heartbeat as you encounter pathways and precipices . Let her know that one in the dance of the sacred female spirit has broken free. Her cheers for you will resound across the miles. Go slowly , but go, go for yourself , go for us all, but most of all go for her. For she is us and we are many.