I have been
bitten,
stung,
scratched,
spat at,
ignored,
bruised
exhausted,
tired
dehydrated,
lonely,
desolate
and bored.

I enjoyed the trip.

In the shadow of the city grey ghosts rise,
time their shroud and hate their eyes,
waiting to wake in the minds of the living,
unseen, unsought and unforgiving.

But you and I are out on the freeway,
living our own lives in our own way;
the past holds no secrets or spectres for us,
the wheels beneath us a rotating chorus
that down through the miles chants us together
as though chance could hold us here, forever.