endless 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 vehicle, 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 of 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 5-milligram valium, as ordered by the doctor, and after
a break, we somehow got home.
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