Saturday, July 25, 2009

White Line Fever



One more string of generic
hotel rooms in the fabric
of my life.
Another tale to tack on
to the miles of stories gone
before it.
Still an old coffee shop,
same as the last one i saw,
a piece back down the road...
So this is why i live,
and this is how i die.
How many people do i
unwillingly make cry...
My road, on and on it goes,
where it ends no one knows.
Back and forth and up and down,
but i'll always be around.
Another hundred thousand or so,
white line fever on
rural roads....

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This work by mysticdave is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

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