{"id":26799,"date":"2020-03-01T11:22:21","date_gmt":"2020-03-01T16:22:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/?p=26799"},"modified":"2020-03-01T11:22:21","modified_gmt":"2020-03-01T16:22:21","slug":"late-night-fun","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/2020\/03\/poetry-in-motion\/late-night-fun\/","title":{"rendered":"Late Night Fun!"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"MarchPoemPic\"<\/a>Hallelujah, y\u2019all! It\u2019s finally March! We are quickly approaching my favorite time of year. Out here where I run, I\u2019ve already started seeing early signs of Spring. Currently, however, it\u2019s been raining relentlessly in the Pacific Northwest. Sometimes, when the rain gets me down, I just try to recall a time in my past when the rain wouldn\u2019t bother me, such as riding with my dad in the truck, especially somewhere across West Texas, where the west is wild, and the horizon is vast. Dad would push on through a stormy night, with the radio on, scanning various stations. With the dash lights glowing on his focused stare, the air powered wipers would slap across the glass, in their feeble attempt to contend with the driving rain. He would drive until just before sunrise, and then pull over and sleep a little before daybreak. That\u2019s when I would usually jump up into his seat, pretend to be at the wheel and study the layout of the dashboard, trying to memorize the moment. The lightning of a West Texas storm might startle me at first, but I always felt safe because I was in the truck with my dad, and there was no place I would rather be. So, it always made something like the wind and rain seem enjoyable to me \u2013 just to be in the moment, knowing I\u2019d miss times like that when they were gone. Dad told me, right before he passed away, that he regretted not having anything valuable to leave us when he was gone, but I assured him that he left us with experiences like these and other memories that were priceless to me. You saved me millions, dad, by giving me these little things to reflect upon, free of charge. Even something as simple as a snooze on an off-ramp!<\/p>\n

THE OFF-RAMP SNOOZE<\/strong>
\n By Trevor Hardwick<\/strong><\/p>\n

Oh what a long long night it\u2019s been,
\nThe rain and the wind are relentless.
\nWe\u2019re parked on the off-ramp way out here,
\nWhere the ways of the wild are repentless.<\/p>\n

Dad pushed hard since the sun went down,
\nHe mused that the nightfall could chase ya.
\nThe last stop I\u2019d seen was in Abiline,
\nI dozed off somewhere near Lamesa.<\/p>\n

I rested my head on the shoulder strap,
\nMy eyeballs were burning and weary.
\nThe engine and tires just sang their song,
\nA mixture of soothing and eerie.<\/p>\n

The dash lights glow on my old man\u2019s face,
\nThe CB was white-noise and static.
\nThe wipers were slappin a random pace,
\nThe lightning was blue and erratic.<\/p>\n

I fall asleep not because I\u2019m bored,
\nThere\u2019s nothing I\u2019d rather be doing.
\nI\u2019m just a young boy beside my dad,
\nIn awe of the dream I\u2019m pursuing.<\/p>\n

But here on the off-ramp I\u2019m wide awake,
\nDad needed sleep \u2018fore the morning.
\nHis TV is on but he\u2019s sound asleep,
\nAnd I\u2019m in his seat while he\u2019s snoring.<\/p>\n

The rain streaks down the window pane,
\nThe chicken lights glow on the pavement.
\nThe truck shakes as other rigs fly on by,
\nChasing their chosen enslavement.<\/p>\n

Daybreak will come and the rain will cease,
\nAnd just as the sun will be risin.
\nI\u2019ll get a glimpse of a brand-new day,
\nAnd we\u2019ll chase a whole new horizon.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Hallelujah, y\u2019all! It\u2019s finally March! We are quickly approaching my favorite time of year. Out here where I run, I\u2019ve already started seeing early signs of Spring. Currently, however, it\u2019s been raining relentlessly in the Pacific Northwest. Sometimes, when the rain gets me down, I just try to recall a time in my past when<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":26800,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-26799","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-poetry-in-motion"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26799","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=26799"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26799\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":26801,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26799\/revisions\/26801"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/26800"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=26799"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=26799"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=26799"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}