RED FLARES (V. Polichar)

Red flares on the highway;
whatever they were for is gone.
Nothing left but the dust on the pavement,
and the slow-stealing light of dawn.
Somebody’s bad disaster; somebody ran out of gas;
somebody lost a wheel; somebody just wanted to pass...
Their footprints look the same
(unless you're checking for the broken glass)
Somebody’s sad disaster;
Somebody’s gone home at last...

Take the wheel, it’s my turn to sleep
and it’s quieter in the back.
You can watch the sky through the slats in the window
where the windshield-wipers slap.
The rain rings out on the bumper
and the metal of the luggage rack.
— I don’t know where we’re heading,
but I don’t think we can ever go back.

I’d like to tell you how I’m feeling
but I don’t know if you'd understand.
I used to think we would talk forever;
now you only hold my hand.
We would sit up ‘til four in the morning
just working out our future plans.
Now you’re tired, but you tell me that you love me —
and I don’t know where I stand.
Wind lifts the corners of the Chevy
and the headlights fill with sand.
Some of us will learn to love the lightning;
some of us will love the burned and broken land.

Red flares on the highway;
whatever they were for is gone.
Nothing left but the dust on the pavement,
and the slow-stealing light of dawn.
Somebody’s sad disaster; somebody ran out of gas;
somebody lost a wheel; somebody just wanted to pass...
Their footprints look the same
(unless you're checking for the broken glass)
Somebody’s bad disaster;
Some things were never meant to last.