Riding Alone for 3,000 Miles

by Craig Shay

I am riding through seasons of insanity
  with a madman in my soul.

I am riding a subway train
  six-hundred feet below the city.

I am staring out the bus window,
  deflecting the forests jaded glances.

I am riding through the eye of a needle,
  listening to the engine sing me to sleep.

I am riding past people who have gun barrels
  where there used to be eyes.

I am riding a white plastic horse on a carousel of illusion.

I am riding over infinite rivers, because
  I want to know what the water knows.

I want to know that woman I see skinny-dipping by that river.
  I want to know what the grass knows, pressed closely against her skin.

I am stopped outside another industrial town,
  waiting on the library steps.

I am riding out the glow of television sets, which light up the night.

I am riding with my soul, through a sea of laughing hills.