I clasp your hand stronger than ever.
The hand that guides me when mine itches
To take the shortcut to the highway.
The strong grip of those slender fingers of your petite hand
Keeps me off the ramp, down alleys leading to blind lanes.
That fixed, calm and peaceful gaze
Holds me when my mind and heart want to race each other.
Your words contain me when I am stuck in a single lane.
You take away the pain with a single touch
When my senses are reeling during a road rage.
Deserts to cross and rivers to wade.
In my mind there is no more room for fear
As you stay beside me and navigate.
But then why can't the other travelers see you?
Through the tinted glass over their eyes.
Maybe 'cause you are really me, or at least a part of me
And I am really you, or at least a part of you.
Maybe we are like those single moms
Who raise future world leaders
Or that one-armed rock drummer
That everyone keeps talking about.
That we have to go our separate ways
Henceforth, on this road to obscurity.
I pretend the wind in my hair is impairing my hearing,
But damn that firm grip that holds my hand
And reminds me that I was just a ride,
A passage to the highway,
The highway that leads to nowhere,
Unlike what the map and the passersby say.
As if we were lovers,
One that would have made Byron blush.
I put up a front as strong as the wind
But then, when alone, my hand falters
Without the support of yours.
I skid and flip on the asphalt
Laid out like roadkill
With no sense, no purpose, no direction no more
Realizing that my destination was right next to me
During the ride of my life.
And now I have a highway to get to
But no destination to go to.