The last drive.

He got in the car, ready to go, turn the key, boom.
The engine starts, growling like an angry lion.
He shifts it into gear, and the tires burn,
Like a lightning bolt he tears down the road,
Here comes those Red and Blues,
He laughs and smashes the pedal,
"Stopping is for people with something to lose,"
The engine bellows and the Red and Blues slip away,
Mailboxes, telephone poles, fields, all fly by.
He slows to make a turn, and rips across the freeway,
Down the rural street he speeds away, and here comes the tracks.
He punches it and jumps the tracks, his car flipping front over backwards,
The roof collapses, and it seems he's stuck,
He reaches for his pack of cigarettes, and then unbuckles himself.
He kicks the door as hard as he can, it slides open but just barely.
He kicks it again, and again, until finally he can slide out.
When he stands up he feels something wet trickling down his left side.
A big shard of glass sticks out of him.
The pain shoots through him as he comes to a realization.
The man crawls closer to the car and leans his back against it.
He lights a cigarette and sits there smoking.
Finally he quickly pulls the shard of glass out and the pain subsides a little.
He faces the sun, barely any clouds in the sky.
He takes another drag of his cigarette, smiles and thinks to himself,
"It's a good day, Joanne... See you soon, babe... Real soon..."
He takes another drag and slips away, still smiling.
Alone on the road a wrecked man and a wrecked car, one to the junkyard, the other to see his beloved...