driving east in iowa.

when you are driving east in iowa, you can chase the clouds.
they get further and further away while seeming close the entire time.
there was only one in the sky today as i drove home from class.
i'm waiting for something to happen, i'm waiting for a synapse to fire.
the warm weather is bathing me in sun everyday.
it is not enough to make me feel clean.
i'm afraid the spring will always remind me of other days.
my head always caught in turn, looking backwards.
the days sipping lemonade on that old front porch with a pretty girl.
her smile would wrap up every time she would take a sip.
we would listen to album leaf records and watch the o.c.
i was so full of life then.
constantly painting dramatic scenes for the thrill of being alive.
i remember not so distant days on another weathered porch.
we would chain smoke unfiltered cigarettes, blowing smoke rings into the evening air.
as the sun would set we would hide the hookah and order pizzas.
people would show up on bikes, skateboards and beat up cars.
toting cases of cheap beer and boxes of cigarettes.
the night would catch us shivering in our shorts.
we would just put our hoods up and quietly drag on squares.
i sometimes wonder if the good memories are all just another reality.
the bygone days we can never get back that weren't so good when we were there.
now we have glossed them over, repainted and pressed them into works of art.
the stories of our yesterdays that have been retold and retold until they have gained a shine.
the memories i have been making i have no interest in keeping.
i am giving up on great romances, i don't think the poets had them.
they were all enamored with flawed girls who couldn't hold their own.
i no longer envision the future with someone else in it.
i can be contented and not in love.
the exhaustion of the winter, of the fall, of the summer forcing me to retire.
to hang my head and find something else of value to occupy my time.
i'm turning out to sea.