Kissed so many strangers. So many bruises. So many frosty nights. Two boys of the Wild West, where the days stretched out long. Men explored their hedonistic desires before heading back east or north, pretending we didn’t mean spit.
You were eighteen; I was seventeen. We didn’t belong. Neither of us had the chance to be boys. We were kindred spirits; our heated passion for life and the world thrust us together. Lying together, we shared each other’s pain. We needed something to numb the past and silence the demons.
The dream was to hit the open road. To escape. To keep driving and not stop until we got off this crazy planet.
You drove a fast car, and I drove a fast heart. Raced along the open road. For a moment, the wind scattered our memories. Speeding over the hills of the moor. Curved roads. Tight country lanes. West Country summer. We were open-road love: free and alive.
No families putting us down, making us feel bad. No strangers putting on us and making us the Whores of Devonia. A hundred miles from the sands of my boyhood. No more pain. No more shame.
You laughed for the first time in years. I loved for the first time. The open road and fast cars were our passion. We lived it up while we could. Every day burning along the roads of the Wild West.
Laying up in a barn in the vast wilderness. Resting up against each other. No one could touch us. No one could hurt us. We were in love. Staring up at the bright starlit sky, I never felt so alive, so free. We had nowhere else to be. The world had stopped. Cradled in each other’s arms. The fast car protected us up on the dirt track.
Soft lips caressed mine in the moonlit night. Two hearts sped. Blood raced. We were free. We were alive. Hands glided over curves, tight smooth skin and West Country heat. Love whirled around us for the first time. No pain; no shame. We were open-road love.
I got myself a job, but you still couldn’t get off the open road. Every day you hit the road with your fast car. Always home before me with that West Country heat and the gentleness that only comes from pain. We longed to escape this crazy planet, but I hadn’t the courage to go with you.
First and only time I got roses. The boy who drove a fast car with he who drove a fast heart. Behind the hard exteriors lay two boys high in love and hot in passion. I didn’t know love could feel so good. You took me racing along the open road with you.
The knock at the door. The Officer looked as if he’d eaten something bad. I knew you’d driven a fast car, and I knew you weren’t coming back from your new open road; your new adventure.
I awoke in the night while your spirit kissed me one final fast ride across Devonia. My cheeks stung as you pulled away and faded into the darkness. My breath escaped. My once fast heart stalled and broke.
Nearly twenty years have come and gone since your fast car and my fast heart discovered open-road love. I know you’re up there driving your fast car, waiting for my fast heart to come join you for another adventure; another open road.
You drove a fast car; I drove a fast heart. We were free. We were alive. We were boys…and we will always be open-road love.
