Road Warrior

There are times we move through one another;
become intermingled souls
made to feel strangely unaffected
by the reversal of order.

Color schemes conflict in crimson cover,
chokepointed like running bulls
into a stampede of those mortally infected
by the road and its border.

Ive been hitchhiking this world for ages;
always the alien resident
never the prodigal coming back home
or the tired ready to settle.

Someday someone will read these pages,
grasp what "goodbye" meant,
how it felt leaving corporate honeycomb
for a life of pulse and pedal.

And to that one I say...brother.