Prisoner to the Road

I have become prisoner to the road.

It unwinds and turns into groves and onto lanes.

It is this road that tells me stop and when to go.

Stop!

Now go! God damn it go!

The people behind me will make quick the fact.

Still it is me who drives, my wrists cuffed to the wheel.

I follow each cross sign and stayed between the dotted lines.

And even though I doze into the drivers reverie, to that surreal space.

The road ever demands me, and yanks my attention back to place.

Stop…

Yield right.

Now go!

And I have gone, gone to depths forgotten and tomorrows far.

Under the light of day, and as the stars above guide the way,

The road is the path forward, but it too has left me scarred.

Andromeda lost her Perseus; the road did not let him stay.

Stop!

Go!

Turn left.

I have become prisoner to the road.

Roads that twist and wind and make sharp turns.

I have made illegal turns, cut people off, honked, and cursed!

I have raced, tailgated, driving has brought out my worst.

I left passengers at gas stations, lost dear ones to automobile collisions.

And in spite of my losses, I remain entrenched in my prison.

I have become a prisoner to the road.