Double Yellow Lines

Double Yellow Lines

by Steve Tieri

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 1999

The wheels are spinning. I'm on my way there to nowhere again. Under a purple canvas, I study the dashes, as they slide by beneath me. I'm going somewhere, somewhere fast. The radio quickens the pace, but the clock pushes ahead. A rig rolls on by forgetting my lane. "Where's that good cassette?" - My hand combs the floor-boards and I find a tape I made for another trip, another dream. Sixty minutes of B-sides, as I shift to the right lane to pass a caravan going fifty five... he may as well be walking. I wonder where that eager little van is going. I bet a lot of the cars on the track are going round and round. I plan to visit a few people along the way. I don't know if I can stay very long. I think about stopping and wonder what I'd do or say. There's so many people to visit and you can't see them all. The radio plays another song by Hootie and the Blowfish followed by Alanis Morisette. I'm as tired as the songs on the radio. The radio finally stops talking to me and I cruise to the sound of my own thoughts. The car's engine hollers for attention, but my mind drowns it out. I reminisce. My memories dash by beneath me, as if they were imbedded in the pavement. I miss things and search for more. A pick-up plows by setting some kind of record. I wonder where he's off to and what her name is. You're either running to or from, in search of something you know real well or something you haven't found yet. This guy knows what he's looking for. I coast conservatively five miles an hour past the speed limit for now, time to reflect and play it safe. I don't want to hear the same songs on the radio, but wonder what's playing. Maybe it will be something good. Songs are filled with memories and eras. For now, I will sit conservatively in silence. I need to hit a rest area, my car is getting thirsty again.