Silent highway drives

1. long silent drives down the highway,
your hand on my knee,
my eye on your mouth,
your eyes on the electronic road map
you paid so much for,
the silences driving me angry, cold.

long silences in the air grow slowly into
sand, then turn slowly into mud
wrapped around your hands.

every stop on this sequence,
one that has been planned,
on your electronic roadmap,
how long could i stand it?

this silence is heavier
than sidewalk sun tans,
rocks ingrained in the skin,
in the pavement,
in the cold air covered with frost,
and our eyes,
and our lies -
we could not want to be here,
any longer.

2. today i took the road without you
and it was long and it was cold
and it was lonely,
though i know i couldn't stand
your hands,
your man,
your lack of sunscreen tan
(babe),
i sure do miss you.

though we knew it wouldn't work,
it gets so cold and lonely
and the road is so long
without you
behind the wheel,
costs more money,
takes more time,
makes me much more sad and mad
and lonely.

(if anything i told you i could stand you
because your hands were so much poetry)
so much screaming,
so many loud silences screaming,
so many long hours on the pavement.