Another poem not about him

I told him we’d run,

leave our lives in the dust

We’d take my red car

And we’d know wanderlust

In the faded blue gray of

Our tired blue jeans

In the shocking bright blue

Of the sky and the seams

Of horizon

Stretched out on the road

And the grease of the diner’s

Food, neon signs glow

Flashing “Open” far into

Velvet black night

We’d know wanderlust in

The trucker’s headlights.

The stars would watch over

The road down below

The rumble of car

As we outrun the snow

And the rain and the

Slush of our lives

On the road we’d be living

With my red car in drive.