Sunday Road Trip

It was something You will take a long time forgetting Should you sit on a Sunday's emptiness Wanting something to do Your hand always had the steering Yet it was I who saw the map And the detours that did not matter I liked driving from Jacksonville to Georgia Imagining horid things about horid places And longing for familiar faces Sometimes, perhaps you cease laughing And swallow hard, and hide again Tears that retraces where you have been It was something Too drunk with stubborness To detour a lonely Sunday evening Searching for one last giggle of happiness