Lost: Cape

It’s a bird’s eye view I get – on the drive to and from work. I hit play on my iPod and listen to the latest book I’m into; then maybe two or three minutes in, I’m off on a tangent. Could have been a word that tripped my trigger. Could have been a concept, like “calling a friend,” or “a tsunami in Malaysia,” and I’m outside the car window, traipsing through the tundra with light bulbs and peppermints.

I know all the twists and curves by now. I seem to leave the mechanical part of my body, muscle-memory activated, at the wheel when I go on these side trips. Sometimes I don’t know how I manage not to get a speeding ticket, or how I avoid hitting a cow standing in the road. But when I drift into the cockpit, the speedometer is always right at 50. I don’t have cruise control. My foot just knows by now, I guess.

A delicious word spoken by the narrator and I’m off on another errand of make-believe. I eventually got wise, and nowadays I cue my phone’s voice recorder before I pull out onto the road. I never remember it all the right way later. It’s a bird’s eye view I get, on those winding roads, into my storytelling superpower.

Now, if I could just find my damn cape.

Advertisements

Road Trip (Apr 1999)

air tight
in wide open
sky bright
roads wind sloping
living green round about
clapping pavement before and hind
window down, my arm out
all the freedom i can find
music’s blasting, i don’t mind

little untainted alcoves
tall green guardians surround heavenly
tucked and stashed mystery groves
whip past me going seventy

lost and found on an interstate
wilderness without and within
my worries and sorrows abate
and my business of late
disappear here, how long it has been

100_1327