Not Saying

With the sun come up, I go.

I’ve hit the highways to find what I need at home.
A long time coming, I’ve gone.
Nothing to guide me but the paint (just a recommendation)
and her curves (which are such comfort!).

I didn’t even notice the first hundred cities,
burnt by with fuel and blown away by the desert.
You’ll be lucky to find me where you stay, regardless of my findings.
I’m not saying that you don’t have luck – I’m just saying.

I’m sure that I’ll miss you, some but not all.
If only as I miss a meal:
Full for a while, but to be hungry again.