caged birds sing for their supper, nothing more

most of my time
is spent behind the wheel
driving down new roads
simply to see
what secrets lay hidden
in the complex
mystical algorithm
in winding avenues

i was trapped
in solitary refinement
most of my childhood
the moment i could
escape into the wild
a fat kid riding his bike
a thousand miles
every summer
just to be moving
to be fast and reckless
and especially free

music in my ears
the wind in my face
lost in the wide world
only half seen
through the bars
a white trash latchkey kid
with tiger stripes
in raised red welts
as gorilla biscuits
blared in my empty head

when i got my license
i drove every backroad
explored every nook
for a couple hundred miles
simply because i could
because no one
can stop me when i am
flying down the road
it is only the hawks
and the fast moving
gray clouds swirling above

frantically finding
empty parking lots
where i can
scribble my thoughts
trying hard not to let
the past catch up
as i zip out into traffic
already feeling the
next poem forming

still that smiling kid
on his bike going nowhere
just at greater velocity
music up too loud
whispering odes into
the open plains
sprouting wildflowers
in unrestrained longing
across a beautiful world
drowning in ugly

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