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Personal Note:

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Poem

I like to get lost a lot.
I was driving down this highway, that you'd barely call a highway today,
and I was thinking about the yellow lines painted down the middle of it.
The middle of nowhere.
Like I said, I like to get lost.
It was quiet out,
or I'm sure it would've been, but I had my headphones in.
And I know it's illegal, but I have the kind of headphones that wrap around your ear, and your hair hides.
So I was listening to some country song, because what can I say:
I like to get lost.
In the music;
In yellow lines;
In the middle of nowhere.
And I was thinking about myself, as well,
because I tend to do that, call me a narcissist.
But I was the only car on the highway, that was running through the absolute middle of nowhere.
And all I could think about was the yellow lines painted by someone else that had once travelled the same road as I,
and the music I was listening to painting the trees in a banjo light,
and coloring the cows with speckled dots of lonliness and the middle of nowhere.
And I watched the sunlight streak itself down the crack in my windshield,
and I was thinking about the dotted houses with sagging porches and too many cars without tires laying empty and half-fixed through the front yards.
Because I was in the middle of nowhere,
listening to the sounds of a six string and a jaw harp,
and watching the road twist sideways in front of me for as far as the next sweeping left turn would allow.
And I felt alone in this big wide world.
And I felt at peace in this ever-growing-smaller world.
And what else can I really say?
I like to get lost a lot.

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