The skies were pure and the fields were green. The sun was brighter than it's ever been. When I grew up with my best friend, Kenny, we were close as any brothers that you ever knew. It was always summer and the future called. We were ready for adventures and we wanted them all. There was so much left to dream and so much time to make it real. But I can still recall the sting of all the tears when he was gone. They said he crashed and burned. I know I'll never learn why any boy should die so young. We were racing. We were soldiers of fortune. We got in trouble, but we sure got around. There are times I think I see him peeling out of the dark. I think he's right behind me now and he's gaining ground. But it was long ago and it was far away. Oh God it seems so very far. And if life is just a highway, then the soul is just a car, and objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are.

And when the sun descended and the night arose, I heard my father cursing everyone he knows. He was dangerous and drunk and defeated and corroded by failure and envy and hate. There were endless winters and the dreams would freeze. Nowhere to hide and no leaves on the trees, and my father's eyes were blank as he hit me again and again and again. I know I still believe he'd never let me leave. I had to run away alone. So many threats and fears, so many wasted years before my life became my own. And though the nightmares should be over, some of the terrors are still intact. I'll hear that ugly coarse and violent voice, and then he grabs me from behind and then he pulls me back. But it was long ago and it was far away. Oh God it seems so very far. And if life is just a highway, then the soul is just a car, and objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are.

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Webwork by Peter Zulu, CTI 2006, 2007. Write me!