Gas Pedal Meditation

We chase tornadoes with
sacred  
unspoken  
understanding.  
 
We move  
with the steady beat  
of the highway,  
with speed and rhythm  
 
between towns  
connected by county roads  
buffered from cities  
that have failed in search for the authentic.    
 
We Chase symbols; Important things:  
 
          Eagles in the sky...that sometimes  
          lay lifeless on the asphalt.  
 
          Vultures floating above rotten corpses.  
 
          Moons illuminating the sky:  
                 
             Giant harvest moons along the horizon,  
                 
             High blue moons above the unknown.  
 
We yell, we scream, we kick in hyper sonic silent tones  
to gas pedal meditations. We rip into portals of pure reality
with smooth black asphalt, guided by the white lines
of our mind.

As dusk turns to night we ride.
Everything we own, everything we know
thrown from the window.