Endless Is the Road

Endless is the Road I have for some time not been eating boiled cabbage and it is of not the slightest importance unless it has been boiled with pork shoulder ham. I just say this because we had dinner at a restaurant for once I was not driving since we were taking the motorway a toll road where all the crazy people assemble. Big powerful cars driven by men who have not yet mastered the mantra my driving instructor repeated: you drive the car it doesn’t drive you. I dislike driving on modern roads, they go on forever and I get the feeling of a prisoner, a man who looks out his barred cell window and sees only the landscape’s seasons but cannot touch It inhales the aroma. I shall never be free of a past imagined. I demanded she stop the car, I was going to walk home, a feat I’m not capable of, I demanded a cigarette – we don’t smoke- she gave me 5- milligram valium, as ordered by the doctor, and after a break, we somehow got home.