Below the Fold

Downed Lines

Wishes and fallen hopes are negotiating some common ground as the lonely night begins to weave its tapestry. Times are hard and times are forever slipping away. And there's nothing you can do or say, there's no call to make...nobody at the other end of the line you can turn to. So with contempt for the coming day and only the merest of thoughts towards your growing collection of unfinished business you decide to take a little recess from routine and settle in on a bit of resurrection.

We all ran away long ago. Boxing up those Sweet Sixteen mementos and gathering what meager possessions we could carry into the tender darkness...lighting our candle dreams and wiping away tears. Making our way down driveways and through wooded gates. How many miles did we travel before that fire burned out?...leaving us to our own devices in a world that was only too happy to pay proper homage to our flight.

Faces have taken their turns. And wild-eyed propositions have taken their toll. The sins of our fathers found their way to our doors and were waiting around every corner, looking so promising and accepting. And like a kid who follows a set of skid marks around the bend, you followed. Dancing through the neon glow and out into the growing battlefield. Waltzing along the edges of fox pits and side stepping more than a handful of incoming bombshells.

The construction site has long since rusted over. Leaving only a skeletal idea of what might have been...of the labored plans that were never completed. Maybe they ran out of money. Or time. Or maybe the workers just lost interest and took a nice office job -- can't blame them really, after seeing so many colleagues slip on the mounting levels...into the sea of waiting arms...marked at day's end by an empty time card slot. Absence becoming our newest and best allowance for observing those we have lost along the way.

What was it that we were all screaming down those dusty back roads to find? Holding hands and truly feeling the wonder of a small town summer night. With windows down and eyes wide open. The radio playing those haunting sermons. Taking your eye off the coming scenery long enough to get one really good look at her profile, knowing that you're young and you'll live forever and nobody is ever going to take this moment away from you.

Hitting that hole you never saw coming. Losing control at a speed you didn't even know you had reached. Skidding into the future in a reckless and frenzied spinout you'd never be able to recover...into a crash you would never quite walk away from.

A static garbled tune is struggling its way into your consciousness, doing its best to drown out the sound of your spinning wheels -- going nowhere in a hurry. And you catch your reflection in the shattered side mirror, taking note of the scars...eyeing the familiar face for the slightest hint of recognition. And you slip into your back seat dreams. One last time.

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