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Description
The highway just outside of my town is lonely… deserted most of the time. As is the town I live in. It is quiet, nothing happens.

I like to sit in my yard or lie in the grass,
Look up at the sky
Watch
Planes fly by.
Sometimes a Cessna, sometimes a jet
I imagine where they are going as they cast a silhouette.
Against a few clouds and a few million stars
I imagine myself leaving
and going as far.

I imagine the same on the highway out there
On the edge of town
With the wind in my hair
By the old tracks I see oil filled cracks
I run away just fine
Conjoining myself
To somewhere else
On the striped yellow line

But this place fits me
It allows me to dream
I can stare in the distance
See lights from the cities
And imagine
That they are, what they seem.

Description
The highway just outside of my town is lonely… deserted most of the time. As is the town I live in. It is quiet, nothing happens.

I like to sit in my yard or lie in the grass,
Look up at the sky
Watch
Planes fly by.
Sometimes a Cessna, sometimes a jet
I imagine where they are going as they cast a silhouette.
Against a few clouds and a few million stars
I imagine myself leaving
and going as far.

I imagine the same on the highway out there
On the edge of town
With the wind in my hair
By the old tracks I see oil filled cracks
I run away just fine
Conjoining myself
To somewhere else
On the striped yellow line

But this place fits me
It allows me to dream
I can stare in the distance
See lights from the cities
And imagine
That they are, what they seem.