On the road

Highway 80,
never ending,
the long ride to California,
maybe escaping?
what we leave behind,
love begone,
love cast out?
Are we running to?
Or away?



She asked me,
were you killed-off by love?
I loved this woman,
sultry dress, scent of Summer flowers on her tender skin,
soft glances of hello.
I told her.
Love doesn’t kill us,
greed does.
When you love someone.
We don’t own the love,
we appreciate the gift of the kiss.
She smiled and she thought a-bit.
She whispered,
then why do you swim in things lost?

Dancing Coyote