The Rhythm Behind The Wheel Poem by Bailey Logan

From here to there we travel
completely trusting
of your skill behind the wheel

Ponytail between the headrest and seat,
eyes wide open
head turned to glance
a quick peek at the rearview mirror

a blast of colors
a chevy screams by
a few honks here and there
but there you are, without a care

the telephone wire swings
up and down like a wave
and the signs yell
turn here! and turn there!

but those blue eyes are wide
and the radio swings
music from long ago
very long ago

your fingers snap to the constant beat
the rhythm seeps through
your smile inches out little by little
and you belt out a solo

and yet the person in the next car
less than ten feet away
smokes a cigarette
then dumps it in his mini-ashtray

the big man scarfs down
his dozen donut box
the little woman shouts
at her teenage daughter on the cell phone

but this is their escape
from everything around
from everything unclear
and from whats to come

how could they waste such a peaceful time
to relax and take a break from dear sweet life
to let their hands rest gently on the wheel
and their feet press lightly on the gas pedal

and all to be unhealthy
and all to be angry
and all to be on edge

that is not the open road
that is not the peace they seek

i take advantage
and let the wheel glide
locked in my own private safe
yet free as a bird