Mileage

Right turn,

The neighborhood

is pretty quiet

for a weekday.

Left turn,

The same one way

to work almost everyday.

Pass by the high school,

A memory rerun

When I was seventeen

couldn't wait

for twenty-one.

I pass by the church

Where I married you

When you were twenty-one

and I was twenty-two.

A stop sign,

A chance

to clear my mind

before the workday.

Then a right turn

Is where I catch

another glimpse

of the highway.

So I speed pass

the building,

I always wanted to

Since I was twenty-one,

almost twenty-two.

If I'd had the nerve,

I'd have quit there before

You turned twenty-three

and couldn't take me anymore.

The well known

Sits in a cloud of dust

of on this weekday.

My cell phone

Is in about

a million pieces

on the highway.

Speed down the highway,

Rack up the miles.

One hundred twenty-one,

a hundred twenty-two.

Roll down the window,

Roll out the miles.

One hundred twenty-three,

a hundred twenty-four.

And straight down the highway,

The road offers no guarantees.

(One thousand twenty-one,

one thousand twenty-two.)

Drive through the morning,

drive into the sun,

And I'm free.

(One thousand twenty-three,

one thousand twenty-four)