Fifteen Hundred Miles from Here

It’s 95 degrees in the shade and I’m zooming through the desert where there is no shade. The side of the road is whipping by but the sun just sits there all high and feverishly hot over here, not moving. 

It seems to not be moving any place with the perception of my eyes but off center from the center of the galaxy it is moving in a great big circle. My eye is not at the center of the galaxy. 

This is an illusion of motion because of the size space beholds and the finite placement of my body in the grand scheme of things is minor. 

If orbital motion were visible I would have traveled in the blink of an eye enough for many lifetimes but without all the experience that traveling would preclude if I didn’t go zooming across the desert instead. 

The heat index is for sure a reality because I can feel the hyper, burning sun scorch my skin fast as I go zipping by broken lines in the center of the road from the comfort of my convertible ‘64 Triumph Spitfire. I try to follow a line with my eyes but my head whips around like it just had a bad thought waiting too long to ignore it. 

As the driver I shouldn’t try to relive the back seat of my childhood antics. Instead I should visualize my speed from the corner of my eye with a glimpse of the road rather than try making motion stand still for a second out of my life. 

Pressing the palm of my hand against the steel car door I feel the car hugging back comfortably and familiarly like cruising down intimate back roads through fields and dunes, streams and lakes back home. 

At home I didn’t find myself trying to explain to people my position in relation to the sun. I used to just gaze into it and have fun or not. I didn’t question its position on the water like I would a mirage down the road. The sun was always there until it wasn’t visible. A mirage was never there until it was visible. The mystery of a mirage and the mystery of my position under the sun puts me further from water and closer to no one.

The mirage of moisture lifts from the road dark gasses in front of a bright horizon of uneven terrain. Before my destination becomes further than I am willing to go I will stop short of going into the blue of the sun and remain.