Asleep At the Wheel
It’s evening rush hour on 101
Parched hills burn golden
Hemmed gnarled oaks see no road
Crowded between cars heading home
Smell the sage with windows rolled
God’s garnish perfumes my nose
His acres shrinking like my heart
AC on, car windows are closed
Distant lovers wait while hills burn
My off-ramp leads to no homecoming
I close my eyes and count to five
Grip the wheel terror wakes me at two
Whisper to me, live this rush hour
The hills grow darker by the minute
The oak stretches its shadowy arms
No one to welcome me this Tuesday
Two cats starving hastens not this drive
Soon twilight's violet will consume this gold
The oak, the hills, and I'll return to darkness
Return to the natural hue of the universe
If not for hope, I and our galaxy are devoid
We reflexively wait for a revolution
I unable to count to ten on the road
If not for hope, no exit welcomes
Because of hope, I came home
To the company of my screen
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