The doors close.
Last minute check in case we left anything.
Both of us in the car.
Our experience now the same.
Agreeing to the auto scan when the radio loses it's antenna.
A weekend getaway.
Nothing but country side awaits.
Veering down three lanes, now two.
Passing the city limit.
Truck stop after truck stop.
The country miles are long.
Soon she is sleep.
Her seat falls into the back.
One hundred twenty miles left until our destination.
The air is cool.
Turning the knob down a notch.
She adjusts. Head pressed deeper into rest.
Blanket laid across her arms.
The cars roll on pass.
Cruising ten, twenty miles over the sixty speed limit.
The eighteen wheelers block both lanes.
Around the bend the state trooper sits in wait.
The next exit is a town bigger than the ones we've passed.
Larger shopping mall.
More places to eat.
She suddenly wakes up and says that she's hungry.
It's been two hours since we've stretched our legs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem