Driving over these battered roads,
together we wander the same route.
Each day is parallel.

Keys dangle from the familiar ignition,
seeking to elicit the start of an engine.

Smoke billows through
vacant windows and
idle minds.

Identical joints hang
loosely from each of our mouths.
They remain at a constant smolder
as we struggle to escape this town
and our own thoughts.

We drift~
From one affair to the next,
attempting to fill each moment of the season at hand.
Simply trying to maintain.

This town is empty
what else are we supposed to do…
but the usual.