Waking up to the sound
of you throwing rocks at my window
looking west towards california
I saw you smile at my shyly
crawled down the second story
from the rusty terrace and vines
you took my hand
we laughed at our mystery
of leaving without letters
or post masters re plies
I’ll miss my nephew
you’ll miss yr two nieces
(but we hold no regrets for the most part)
put yr ‘86 Buick in neutral
push it down the drive
down three blocks
we start up the car
you take the wheel
for the first leg of out journey
we throw away our maps
we watch the past dissolve in the review mirror
we play the mix tapes
yr brother made for you
back when he was in college
music plays, driving, conversations
(But we hold no regrets for the most part)
my turn to drive
and I push us further
stopping at every truck stop
for pancakes and old jukeboxes
towards a goal destination
but we know it’s not about where we are going
it’s about the getting there
so we take our time
across the midwest
we take in the plain scenery
and know there are no better ways
than to keep driving on
(And we hold no regrets for the most part)
