Highway Thoughts

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.