I was on Hwy 93
Or maybe it was Hwy 318
I was lost somewhere between
Great Basin National Park
And some little desert town called Caliente

The old ’72 Nova was on its last legs
It was faded from a blue
To a grayish silver and rust colored wreck
It fit right in here lost in the deserts of Nevada

Sun was rising against my back
Blinding atomic glare in the rearview mirror
Lonely road being revealed before me
As the desert came alive

I pulled to the side of either Hwy 93 or Hwy 318
Dug out my camp pot
Made a small fire and brewed some coffee
Sat on the bumper of the car
And watched the coming promise of another new day
Deep down in my bones
There will never be a moment like this again

If you think about it
Being lost is the ultimate freedom
There is nowhere to be anymore

When you are lost
There are no more schedules

There is lots of time to get lost in your mind
To confront yourself honestly nakedly

You can only lie so much to yourself
When you are lost by yourself
Either on Hwy 318 or Hwy 93
With the sun warming your back
Spitting grit between drinks of campfire coffee
Looking West to the edge of the world

©, 2015

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