Sometimes there's an ache Somewhere deep within my soul. I can surely speculate all day For when the ache first started. But I've commited to driving it home. Letting it stretch out in the back seat Relaxed. While I, with clenched fists and knuckles White like the sea in its eyes Drive endlessly, from city to city Day after day Through the windy streets Up the steepest hills No headlights Always on empty No gas station for miles Four flat tires Engine grinding Brakes disengaged With no destination. And then sometimes I manage to pull over. The ache looks at me Confused Questioning But then it gets out and says "Tomorrow then."