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Drive

The engine won’t start again
But that’s because I’m alone.
To me, time stands still,
Though I age
In the sanctum of an inner rage
That long ago turned dull
Turned motors
Like mine, but stronger
Leaving black marks on an oil-slicked street
That never could be slick enough to escape
But, hey, despair ain’t heavy with the top down
We make our own wind anyway
Though the scene stay
Often it’s in some other car
That we fight a new battle in an old war
Sometimes we blame the other for the loss
Sometimes we ourselves incur the cost
We alone condone,
Turn ourselves into hardened stone
And refuse to be the ones who pay
When the engine does start,
In our unconscious choice,
Then wheels, spinning wheels,
Kick up smoke
To obscure a future that we don’t want to see
And we pray
Pray for our man-made mist to go away
The tank is full
The gear in drive
The brake pressed hard to end the jive
To do else would raise my stake,
Force me to see some other scene,
And risk seeing myself in the rearview mirror
Maybe that’s why I never drive
Nah, it’s just too hard to turn the engine over
And, anyway, despair ain’t heavy with the top down.
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