the color of the night

Do we spend time? do we spend energy?

Some spend their weekends mowing, others chilling out at the swimming pool.

Two days sweating outside, around 90 degrees among the sound of kids play, seniors walking and rolling around, some bitching and the wrenches turning bolts and nuts.

Under the metal there's dust and oil, ants underneath and spiders over. Some weed looking for fresh air and the rays of the sun and rock breaking my back; there's no blood this time but I still get the sanding feeling or the dirt when I drink from my bottle, and I know what it is in this one.

Wheel go by and there's something in the air, waiting.

Soon the light runs out and right when the routine is ready to strike back, something urgent comes and we get to the road a bit far away, in a place of the world I never was before. There's people on the street, there are police cars lurking, and a very quiet atmosphere even when there's no trust, and no respect.

Now time to go back, and the ride turns into drive and I'm there pushing to only two pedals, and moving a machine 4 times bigger than I use to move, trough the night, trough a lonely road, when all of a sudden two standing figures show up in the middle of the road, in the middle of nowhere... and in the middle of the night.

Tension keeps building up and I don't like it, but I'm there in the dirt, sweating turning wrenches, pouring substances into iron and aluminum when human nature makes it's presence and all gets loud, there's anger and confusion, frustration and noise, all part of human nature.

As the night falls again, the sweat stops but it's time to go down in the dirt, lay over the oily rocks that want to break my spirit, and the fire goes on, all the way, everywhere, and there's shouting and bitching, and now I can't take it anymore.

Grab my wheel, turn my lights on and head west. At the sound of my lonely engine everything seems from a different perspective, and the night turns redish warm and soft, and it takes me to me, inside where no one has ever really been. And I smile and think of a name.