This afternoon I hit Hwy 149.

Sunroof wide open, windows down.

My black sunglasses on.

Long brown hair in a ponytail.

I glided by first one car and then another.

Shifting out I felt the power.

The superchargers whine.

Flying down that Grey asphalt ribbon,

As all my cares fell away.

I eased up to one hundred

miles an hour.

I drove.

Composed.

Melded with the machine.

Not angry at all.

Felt so clean.

To drive.

The shifter in my hand grasped loosely.

As I slid down that highway inspired.

Not high, no rage. Unwinding.

Like poetry on the page.

Better than any drug or orgasm.

Can you all fathom?

I was alive.

All the bullshit, all the pain.

Nothing mattered.

Not that I just lost my best friend forever.

No tears, no fear, no anger.

Felt comfort not danger.

The wind in my hair felt so clean.

So I flew....home to you.

Phil G. Inman Sr.