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trees cup the seemingly endless road

to me it is primal and lonely

especially now, when it is

framed by sun-paint sky and

sharp hills angle up from the road with clumps of grass reaching up on either side

i know them from a passing distance


those hills hold my daydreams

slipping away as i look out the window, wondering

as i go somewhere i will reach in another life,

approaching another land

far away from here and now

if i don’t look at the clock 

time dissolves into no measured meaning beyond that

in my head

what must it have been like to walk the fifteen

kilometre distance in a time before cars? an endless

well-known stretch of uncaring land

(whereas i have the choice to opt out of knowing for my own sanity

whether that is right or wrong)

perhaps it would seem different if i were the driver

but i have almost-freedom in the cold, still passenger’s side

before i arrive 

at another day of my life, school, an eventual change of seating in this car again, a car of my own and a tax bill and a house

i can’t stop from coming

but right now i am not there

 i am here

i am now

i am tired of trying to cast myself ahead




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