Driving on the freeway, a real sense of freedom
and space
the wide, speed, road
the signs
pointing out the next exit
to North San Francisco
last exit
must stay on right lane
whiz past dragged watercolours
the wind
whistling howling whipping
my face, my hair
melt into one with the raw feeling
cold fresh
the pacific
stretching ever on
reminding me of both distance
and connection
to the people I love
somewhere on the other side
of the ocean
the equator
the timeline
I feel like I'm chasing their time
their days
mornings, now night
bump, i jump
lower the window and
stretch out my head
life: like the passing guidepost
flying by with brilliant colours
and a terrible mess
--a drive in speed
look now
and breathe the fresh wind
before they zoom past
or is it I?