Mileage

Give it away. Shed that old metal skin and grow new. Spinning wheels alive with the timbre of the road. As it takes me places. So many places I thought I'd already been. But now, they're all new again.

Siphoning power from the air. The wind. Driving. Dash by dash the measure of our distance. As we go home for the first time since. That given rubber chased the asphalt with its hungry grin.

Blackest when the lights are on. So alike I am. Humble as the faster it flees. So arrogant as it's forced to stop. Lose the backseats. We carry just one passenger. Often less.

Smooth face of glass. Elongated to show the panorama of traffic that is life. Chasing gears in absolute resolve. Until every gradation is mine. Fluttering nimbly through these streets as a butterfly alighting on slouching shoulders. Casual, yet meticulous. In movement and in form. In every gentle nudge that urges of toward our destination.

But regardless of where we may end up, the journey is always ours.

As I continue to drive my little black car.

Mileage is irrelevant.

We're here again.