Saturday is a Mile away

Saturday is a Mile away

So Saturday is a mile away

Plans like a road map of your face to wait for

And directed to and the speed limit says not to drive that fast

Unless I want to end up in mangled metal

Of responsibilities mixed and missed

Into grabbing hold of that one hand and go

And why not create the sounds of that day

That will still be there strumming

And add this one to the humming of that night

The sounds of something greater in pounds of patience

Lifted off my back and concentration reforming in tact

To this space to not drive me in floods

Riding on roof tops and hubs of air traffic landing

In the skies of my mind with the helicopters swirling

And the jet planes rocketing off to San Francisco

And all these towers and lights telling me that it is no yet that night

But could be if I just ask knowing there is an answer and a plan

And a time that I don’t wan to let go of knowing that this whirlwind

Is showing me the time for a landing on this runway in twilight

This pathway to star lights and I know, I know

Maybe it doesn’t matter, and maybe it is better

Holding out there under this blanket of knowing what will come

If I just stand here and strum this words out like satiated muses

To hear them like perspective excuses

To be an adult to make rational choices

But sometimes life is taking the ticket and running with horses

Out of pastures of sure things into a mustang wonderland of everything

On the fringe of what if and what may creating for yourself in the palms of that day

As it holds you and you pick it up in a rush of all those things you never thought of

In the grip of that time that this is your life and these are your lines

To write your own history, beating hooves and layers of these mysteries

Unraveled in a battle of tomorrow and today to create more in between

And I know you feel this too, this beating underneath your skin

Like a pulling that will not subside, this need to connect with me

In a way that telephones can not satiate, this rapture this falling

This almighty calling in a tidal wave under the sheets of these days

Wrapped up and pent in words that can not be sent

With the passing of skin, roses of dens filled to the brim

Ready to burst and Saturday is a mile away