just riding

M. driving, just riding i am.
only an hour.
feet up, back seat down time.

rain barks the glass. wipers beating,
sweeping water like sawdust chunks
and it takes me away,

under a dark arch of rain.
to the right a lonely fragment of blue sky.
behind us now. bye bye.

rolled into a service station. found:
a packed full, third- world construction zone,
where at the pumps the customer does the service.

major concrete cutting- saw noise
and white cement-dust clouds
blanket everyone and the dozen cars gassing up.

take me out,
lay me face up
toward the stars at night.

no wonder why i daydream
po box Wyoming, big sky country,
instead of living the reality.

to escape within the city.
tumbling along,
a little pretty, a little gritty.

it’s the kinda day makes me wanna
put my pen and notebook down,
buy a TV, fall into it, frown,

then close my eyes.
and hum my head off an on, in tune
with the background static.