Living It

I had dreams of driving
cross-country, sleeping free
under a wide sky breathing
easy, living it.

I got a little pine tree air
freshener and watched it twist
from the rearview like a ballerina
as I drove, conducting the gears
as I pressed the pedals,
the motor's hum cheerfully
orchestrating the pine tree ballet.

Then somewhere near nowhere,
the engine light cued
the scent of something burning
accompanied by the sight of smoke,
and that was it, then and there,

me smack dab in the middle of America, living it,
knowing how the engine would cost too much to fix,
listening to the highway humming lonely songs
with each passing car,
and more than the engine broke down that day.