jay deex

final 1 page

2:13: your shift to drive on through the solitude of a two-lane road in texas. the moon leaves only silhouettes to stare at. your fellow travelers revert to earplugs, avoiding the ear-wrenching volume of the stereo and sleep in awkward positions. the tapes have all been played out for weeks. f.m. radio brings you little consolation besides static on a road where one swerves to break the monotony.

to leave one alone with their thoughts is a pleasure, as well as, a curse. leaves you reminiscing about the subversive thoughts you once had under the sheets, this being one way to stay awake. thoughts of love lost, steps never taken, the insecurities of an awkward shyness. panic and frustration bring you to the warmth of a.m. radio.

evangelic preachers condemn you at 100,000 watts of intensity, reaffirming reasons you stopped going to church. a spanish radio drama reminds you how little español you recall from school and vacant highway produce stands reaffirm a hunger you can't afford to subdue.

static. search. fuzz, click, longing. there is camaraderie in emotions that we covet. you drive, you listen. the music sounds like something hoyt axton might introduce by dedicating to all those out alone tonight on a two-lane road in texas. you were never alone.