Road Trip

Remember saving our cigarette cellophanes
from each state
of pain buried geography
coated in sugar plums
and little beignets of Wayne
all the way through Texas
devouring western sunsets
and tossing dirty guns
and doing pulverulent white lines
off glass table tops
to the land of the stars
that was not so bright,
and driving fancy cars through Malibu
along coastal tides
embracing speedy highs
smelling sweet salty brine
and staring at the Hollywood sign
through our hotel window shattered with plans of forever?

The snowy road
broke our internet codes
on Route 66 where we spent the night with Marilyn,
then caffeine driven 24 hours straight through I-10
where round the bin eternity was waiting to halt our plans
and we took our last bump through Memphis
before the wide eyed end of our foolish time,
dehydrating our youth and sweating out the past
that we hoped would last for the future
and the sake of the fucking almighty hand
that ripped apart our souls
because the implication of inevitable doom
wouldn't allow me to continue hurting you.
Hurting the both of us.

Home was calling beyond Dorothy's shoes
and it was about damn time we answered,
though it was hard to do.
Then the colors faded
like the five years we wasted,
but recycled in my mind are all those times
that you were mine and now my soul rests,
naked.