distance (part fifteen)

Let me tell you how great
traveling in cars
with people you want
to be with
is.

Especially when you're talking.
The fields
      and acres of farmland
      and knowledge that you've passed into the more desolate part of town
      and the mountains
      and the steep grades that the car whines up
          and coasts down
      and the wild forest rivers
      and the wide mighty rivers
      and the foothills
      and the plateaus
      and the basalt cliffs
      and the endless pines
      and the stiffness in your joints
          and the urge to stretch until inhuman noises escape your mouth
      and the ocean coasts
      and the lakes
      and the roadkill that makes you want to cry
      and the eyes of the storms passing overhead
      and the ferocious side winds
      and the dust devils
      and the unbearable heat
      and the pelting raindrops
      and the semi-trucks that always make you tense up and hold your breath until they pass
      and the miles
      and the hours
take only minutes to conquer.

Doesn't matter where you're going, is it?
It's never the destination.
      Especially when you're traveling with the person you want to be with,
      because you never want to get there, do you?

At least once, let's just keep going. Let's skip this town.
I don't care where we go. You got money, and now, so do I.

I'll break and reform my knuckles around the steering wheel
While you use the dashboard and your knees as drums.
You can laugh at my jokes, and my attempts to be witty,
And I'll listen to your stories as the landscape changes before our eyes.
      Then we can switch.

I'll punch the accelerator to get us over the Rockies,
And we can go visit the red canyons.
Or maybe head down to NoCal, see the seqouia forests.

Let's burn into our eyes the endless sights we have yet to see.

Let's just go. Just once; let's just go.

-Dana Winter