Through thick lenses
he looks out the window
at a blurry vision of his youth.

The now sun-faded orange,
scratched-up silver,
and fog-filled headlights
stare back at him.
On the dusty windshield sits a sign,
it’s red text demanding the attention of passers bys;
FOR SALE.

Living out of orange and white bottles,
unable to speak,
too weak to walk,
he lets his memory make the moves;

Squeezing the brakes
he brings his daily commute to a stop.
The bright red text of a sign reads
FOR SALE.
Circular headlights
and the large metallic VW symbol
sparkling back at him.
Removing his helmet
he slowly circles the vehicle.
Peaking through the back window
he can make out the bunks.
The orange and cream colored paint shines,
while his long haired reflection looks back.

An exchange was made.
His bike and what little cash he had
was handed over
and the keys changed hands.

Behind that windshield the world felt bigger.

With nothing to lose he split town
leaving a trail of music and smoke drifting from his windows.
On the clear nights he used the stars as a canopy
and as for the others
he happily took shelter in his van
beneath his worn patchwork quilt.
His dreams were riddled with his obsession
for adventure and freedom
only to be made a reality the next day
behind the wheel. 
His path was as winding as the Colorado River
wildly flowing across the country
with no final destination.

His face is creased
from all the times it has folded with happiness.
His crisp white sheets surround him,
as he looks out one last time
knowing he cannot stop the inevitable.
He lies in silence,
hoping
that dusty windshield continues to magnify the world.