Road To Nowhere Poem by Abby Koning

Once again, I find myself driving silently
From somewhere I can’t remember
To nowhere at all
On this road paved with apathy
Which is a word I use too much
But I don’t care.

The world rushes by in a meaningless blur,
A tree. A blade of grass. A garish road sign.
(screaming YIELD in a way as
Brash
as the chipping red paint.
In a way that I ignore.
Yielding has never been in my nature.)
It’s all the same to me.
And would anyone come to find me
If I spun off the road
Hit a tree
And flew into a ditch?
I didn’t think so.
This ditch is damp.
And I’ve left my galoshes
In some far off place
I’ll never see again
Some place that looks like, sounds like,
Tastes likes, smells like,
But never feels like
Home.

And maybe I think just a little too much.
And I wouldn’t object to that if
I could be sure that it was better than
Thinking too little.
Or not thinking at all.
(If writing all these words could erase these doubts,
I’d never leave this room again.
And I would slaughter countless trees
For scraps of paper to fill.
And ink would stain my hands, my clothes, my hair
And I would smile, a blue or black, toothy smile
That would make my entire face look like a bruise.
But I digress.
Writing can’t erase the greatest doubt
And that is the doubt
That writing won’t change anything)
Maybe if I turn up the radio a bit louder
My thoughts will wash away…
I sigh.
(But not in sorrow, for, as I said, I am apathetic)
The speakers aren’t loud enough

And maybe, just maybe, if I drive fast enough,
Far enough,
Long enough,
I could leave the past behind
(with the place that never felt like home)
And the future ahead
(where it rightfully belongs,
But never seems to remain)
And just breathe in
Breath out
and live in the moment.

But even as I think that thought
I realize
(as I continue on my way to nowhere)
The past has just stolen another minute
In which I’ve accomplished nothing.
And the future has just become the present…
And it isn’t anything I hoped it would be.