The Drive Home (Noon on a Saturday, June 2016)
I'm driving home from the gym
exhausted
my sweat soaking into the upholstery
or being dried to salt on my arm
by the hot breeze through the open window.
I hit the bridge that divides
the outer ring suburb containing the gym
from the inner ring suburb containing my home.
I look out my window
to the left
north
over the lake.
The sky and the lake are the exact same shade of purple.
If it weren't for one silver sail far out on the water
the purple sky
and the purple lake
would be indistinguishable
a purple wall across the horizon.
And for as long as it takes me to cross this bridge
at 5 over the limit
I forget my exhaustion
and my sweat
and the upholstery
and the salt on my arm
and the hot breeze
and I remember only
the purple sky
the purple lake
and the silver sail.
Poem by cynic51
Thanks to Taylor Mali for inspiration.
exhausted
my sweat soaking into the upholstery
or being dried to salt on my arm
by the hot breeze through the open window.
I hit the bridge that divides
the outer ring suburb containing the gym
from the inner ring suburb containing my home.
I look out my window
to the left
north
over the lake.
The sky and the lake are the exact same shade of purple.
If it weren't for one silver sail far out on the water
the purple sky
and the purple lake
would be indistinguishable
a purple wall across the horizon.
And for as long as it takes me to cross this bridge
at 5 over the limit
I forget my exhaustion
and my sweat
and the upholstery
and the salt on my arm
and the hot breeze
and I remember only
the purple sky
the purple lake
and the silver sail.
Poem by cynic51
Thanks to Taylor Mali for inspiration.