The Book

While mist
Not quite rain
smeared the windshield
And my head in a book
That described a red headed girl
but a child really
Who survived a wilderness
Wild with the screams of Natives
as I avoided the rearview mirror
Whose eyes who knew me too well
In spaces I had yet to introduce myself
Where they danced on ground
Hallowed out by a lineage without
my blue eyes and peculiar stare
A yellow line and highway disappeared behind me
And the distance from it now
A created space outlined by heartache
out the smeared front window
I looked up and glanced at the horizon
It had come faster than I anticipated
My story would have to end  for the evening
there was a noticeable loss of light