Cure All

Searching for an anodyne
for broken heart and crushed dreams,
I turn my 72 Nova westward.
Not toward the setting sun
but away from the cold ashes
of a love's fire that
had burned out
so metaphorically
in my soul.

It wasn't the bald tires,
worn engine
or low gas tank that stopped
my escape.

The glimmer of
reality I saw through
milky glass and
past a bobble headed
NASCAR driver,
was the sun glint
on guardrail
before my front bumper kissed
it at 70 miles an hour.

American steel greets
American steel, with
a grinding crash that
renders my tough guy
with a broken heart grimace
a windshield
smashed wreck.

I awaken in a Denver
hospital bed and cry your name.
Searching for an anodyne
for broken bones
and crushed dreams
of escaping you.