Sometimes when I was a driving, wheeling through the dead of the night, taking 44 from Bernalillo, headed up to Farmington before the morning light. Home by morning light. Sometimes when I looked out the window, of my Pinto with its gas tank so light, I saw a thousand stars of the ancients, and a touch of belonging made me feel all right. Sometimes I felt so lonely, driving desert highways, the darkness so tight, spirit of the Anasazi, a young boy like me, could meet a ghost at night. Sometimes I thought I saw him, may be it was her just peering in my lights, taking a look at my condition, maybe it was them come to mend my lonely mind. My lonely, lonely mind.
Sometimes that highway was a portal, generating fluid to my heart when it was dry, it could be why I’d stop in the darkness, lay upon the blacktop, not a sound it was so nice. Sometimes, I’d look into the heavens, watching the cold stars, as they shifted to suffice, thinking that there was energy, building up above, just to levitate my eyes. Sometimes, I’d walk across the sand, at 3:00 AM, let G_D be my only ride, and I would still be all right. Sometimes, I’d hear the step of angels, thinking out here on this single highway, seraphs mend my lonely mind. My lonely, lonely mind.
Sometimes after I drove past Cuba, up into the air, where the rocks hide lion’s lair, I’d stop, and chase a herd of cattle, screaming in the night, feeling life was really mine. Sometimes, I’d hear the sound of voices, old ones talking to the wind, keeping frost away from them. Sometimes I’d wish that I could meet them, then a coyote would go by, blazing speed into the night, and I’d know, on 44, I’d know it was them. It was a sign. Sometimes I still think about that highway, driving it at night, just a young boy, oh so shy, and I know, that time back then, was to mend my lonely mind. My lonely, lonely mind.
Sometimes when I was a driving, wheeling through the dead of the night, taking 44 from Bernalillo, headed up to Farmington before the morning light. Home by morning light.
Highway 44 is now Highway 550, it stretches from Bernalillo, New Mexico, to Montrose, Colorado. When I was a young man I would often travel it driving from New Mexico State University in Las Cruces, New Mexico, home to Kirtland, New Mexico. I would choose to drive its 190 miles in the dead of night, it helped to mend my lonely mind. – 05.15.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל