I can drive all night and I do, the music on the radio making a soundtrack for my bald tires dancing across unfeeling concrete.

"So drunk in the August sun," and the next two lines are empty in the best way possible. "I've been sitting here too long and I've been wasted."

I hope that the songs last longer than my eyes, as they slowly droop, windows open, I don't want silver or gold. I just want to get home.

And Issac is singing "No, cos I know the score broke my back." I pray to the gods of music to get me back to my safe street, somewhere far away. What do they have for me?

I scan the dial look for meaning when we all know that nothing means anything.

"Then I fell asleep in the city kept blinking." And "But still I'd be lying if I said it wasn't easy." Static. Feedback. Whirl. Silence. Tires on the median, quick save, windows down, slap yourself in the face to stay awake.

Thank God for Win. Screaming me into alertness, "before they turn the summer into dust."

The voices keep me awake as I careen into the early spring night, no destination in mind, no map in hand, just hoping it doesn't get too foggy.

Photo - N
Words - S