I drive.
I don’t know where I’m going
But still I go.
The open road is so unknowing,
Compared to things I know.
I pick up speed, going too fast,
Just seeking an escape.
I’m trying to forget the past
By dividing the landscape.
I see.
The clouds are growing darker
The further I progress.
With each fleeting mile marker,
The sunlight shows much less.
With windows down, pedal to the floor,
I’m relieved of all my pain.
When suddenly it begins to pour
And I drive into the rain.
I brake.
I don’t know why I’m slowing
But still I slow.
The open road is so all-knowing,
Compared to things I know.
Standing in the rain, feeling each drip
Splash and slide and wander and roam.
Soaked, I conclude my peculiar trip
And slowly drive back home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem