Eclectic Electric

Sailing over a bitumen ocean, caught by a wind, the world whips by and whispers as I cut through. Each passed house long asleep, a gentle piano tune is carrying heartbreak in script, volume loud enough to sing along to and pretend the stars a stadium, full, above my windscreen.

The sky lights, illuminating each layer of cloud cover all the way until the coast’s shoreline, before flashing too bright, blinding, washing the image out. Then darkness again, and the low rumbling of the impending.

You won’t be there, I convince myself, but when I get home, you’re home too.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s