Refections From The Road.

The road trains argue with the air conditioning unit
and the rain cackles as it clatters on the motel's tin roof
I'm huddled beneath with electric heat
cold feet
full of whipped cream clouds, strawberries and sweet sunsets,
rogue sheep and roast lamb.

The bright light beyond the coluds billowing on the horizon beckons,
is heaven just past those rolling rocky hills?
Or are we already angels, floating on a raspy voice and celestial melody,
buoyant

on waves of laughter.

Breathe in the country's air,
as the road completes our third pair
we dance the only steps we know,
going where we go, blowing where we blow

feed the fibres of our earthy selves
before walls and bricks and city streets greet us
and fresh sheets in familliar shades meet us
and all this luminosity fades into distant dreams

the sky is a brightly burning fire, flames of cherry red and rich gold.

We are millionaires tonight.