We broke our roadtrip rule that day:
Off the road by three o'clock at a motel with a pool.
We were ready to get home.
After the ticket in Yankee Blade
You swore you would never complain again
When I told you to slow down.
Promises are made to be broken.
Black thread of road in blackest night
Connecting mountain to mountain
Through long prairie grass.
We almost killed a cow.
Couldn't see her in the road.
When we stopped at the restroom
And I ran in
I understood what trust was--
You in the running car behind the wheel,
Me with my pants down in nowhere,
Ten miles out of Winnemucca.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Oh this is lovely.
ReplyDeleteJoanne Skirving
This made me smile,especially the last two lines.
ReplyDeleteMakes you realize how vulnerable travel really can be! Passions and irritations can run deep on road trips, that's for sure. Thanks for showing us these two characters and their trek across what sounds like no-man's land.
ReplyDelete