“No place like home” or so the saying goes. When you leave home for an extended period of time – all you can think about is getting back to where it is familiar to you. The one place that knows your success and failures. The place where you have found and lost love. That place for me sits at the foot of the Colorado Rocky Mountains – that place is Denver.
Heading to Denver
Sun is setting in the west Rockies behind me,
Traveling down I-70 and closer to Denver by degree.
Autumn air is crisp and clear—Denver is my destination,
Doing 85 on pavement two lane looking for a gas station.
Passing west bound trains that have no names,
Cars with kids playing traveling road sign games.
Full tank now in the town that almost wasn’t—Parachute,
Proposition at the truck stop by sad and lonely prostitute.
Giving her a five spot telling her I was not her ride,
Her shoulders slumped—a woman who lost her pride.
Back on the road trying to out think the highway patrol,
Trying to slow down to miss the many in road potholes.
Reaching into the cooler with no ice for a Coors brew.
Darkness descends – good evening Colorado how are you?
Slowing down to pass the town of Glenwood Springs,
Mind jumbled with crazy thoughts and just weird things.
Rolling along past houses, mountains, canyons, and farms,
Done 400 miles and now there are cramps in my arms.
Waylon on the radio and my head a buzz with Coors beer,
Trying to stay awake and not hit a crossing elk or deer.
Now on my south side the high and fancy town of Vail,
East bound for Denver driving through lightning and hail.
Radio signal now mountain lost – now CD’s is all I got,
A little Willy, maybe some John Denver is now my thought.
On top of the mountain and in the thin air is the timberline,
Another mile to Eisenhower Tunnel says the roadside sign.
Passing on the north in Idaho Springs is the Argo Gold Mine,
Eastern full moon rising now just above the 35 mile Denver sign.
Feeling the wheels rumbling beneath the trucks floor,
And the cold mountain air seeps through the trucks door.
Avoiding runaway semi’s that have lost their brakes on Floyd Hill,
Finally, see the Denver city lights orange glow—How I love them still.
Kurt James © 2019
Where to purchase Kurt James novels and books:
- Just a Man Who’s Searching - September 1, 2020
- Callin’ Her Name - August 25, 2020
- COLORADO GHOST TOWNS, HAUNTINGS,TREASURE TALES, and other BS - August 24, 2020