Odyssey

I knew we were going too fast

because I couldn't read the Burma

Shave signs as we zipped past.

Clive was in a hurry. The scenery

passed by like looking at an oil

landscape on LSD. We pulled into 

a gas station to load up on Mountain 

Dew and Fritos, almost drove away

with the pump still in the gas tank.

Tunnel visioned the Cadillac to

Austin, the end of the rainbow. We

would be ready to open the trunk of

the red convertible and make history.

One thing had led to another Randy

Quaid called on the cell phone, 

but didn't leave a number. It hadn't 

been long ago that they were sitting

at the diner down to their last cup of

coffee, listening to two hair dressers

having a conversation about welding

while eating pecan pie.

How they got to the spot they were in,

on the lam with no destination, money

running out, both of them fantasizing

about Dusty Springfield, wasn't clear...

the dots didn't connect. The vagueness

could be attributed in part to the variety

of substances they were consuming on

their epic journey. Like Columbus, they

couldn't be certain they wouldn't fall off 

the end of the world. All they knew for 

sure was that they were lost.