Smile at The Sky
I can remember the night we were on our way back and I saw it. I said to her to pull it over. How dark and clear it was. She saw it up there too. We were on our way back to school and that night was the closest I was ever to the sky. She was by my side.
On interstate 70 during a ride west to somewhere, I saw the sign and said let's go. It showed me just how far to where I've never been. She's as spontaneous as me and never hesitated to curb my eclectic nature. So she hit the gas and said we were broke.
We were just beginning another weekend to perpetuate my escape. I was on the run from parole and she was harbouring a fugitive. Las Vegas was nice, but before we got to the strip, while sitting at a red light, I noticed the car next to me was loud and had a driver smoking what smelled like the stuff I blamed for being in such terrible standing with my parole officer in the first place.
The trip was paid for by Wells Fargo debit, but was overdraft protected by mom. After the fact for sure. When she pulled over and we took it all in, she and I stayed quiet long enough to feel at home. Our relationship had as much potential as the sky had stars. That night was ours.
I look up to the sky today and she isn't there anymore. I got caught after 3 months of bliss. Her parent's didn't really approve so I got two "Dear John" letters in jail. She was a bohemian and a psychic. She was the type to aspire for the Denver Marathon and roleplay a hag at the renaissance festival. I was an English major and hated biology. Now the memories come.
When I stop to look up and take in my life, the sky smiles at me. The steady flow of fresh air and those real relationships I shared were all that mattered. I can harken to a time in my life that I couldn't look up. The road before me was littered with bad things. I know because I put them all there and I had to navigate my own madness. The system never had the time to take it easy on me. I was putting myself thru the wringer of pain. So I liked it.
This place and this time of my life is what matters now. Freedom from self imposed repression and to be in touch with the sky. Mark the world. Make a Man. Before the parole officer does.
On interstate 70 during a ride west to somewhere, I saw the sign and said let's go. It showed me just how far to where I've never been. She's as spontaneous as me and never hesitated to curb my eclectic nature. So she hit the gas and said we were broke.
We were just beginning another weekend to perpetuate my escape. I was on the run from parole and she was harbouring a fugitive. Las Vegas was nice, but before we got to the strip, while sitting at a red light, I noticed the car next to me was loud and had a driver smoking what smelled like the stuff I blamed for being in such terrible standing with my parole officer in the first place.
The trip was paid for by Wells Fargo debit, but was overdraft protected by mom. After the fact for sure. When she pulled over and we took it all in, she and I stayed quiet long enough to feel at home. Our relationship had as much potential as the sky had stars. That night was ours.
I look up to the sky today and she isn't there anymore. I got caught after 3 months of bliss. Her parent's didn't really approve so I got two "Dear John" letters in jail. She was a bohemian and a psychic. She was the type to aspire for the Denver Marathon and roleplay a hag at the renaissance festival. I was an English major and hated biology. Now the memories come.
When I stop to look up and take in my life, the sky smiles at me. The steady flow of fresh air and those real relationships I shared were all that mattered. I can harken to a time in my life that I couldn't look up. The road before me was littered with bad things. I know because I put them all there and I had to navigate my own madness. The system never had the time to take it easy on me. I was putting myself thru the wringer of pain. So I liked it.
This place and this time of my life is what matters now. Freedom from self imposed repression and to be in touch with the sky. Mark the world. Make a Man. Before the parole officer does.
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