Scent of pine trees and hot wind hitching  sandy back roads to all the beaches of Maine deep summer heaat baking into us.
Once we stood in torrential rain under a bridge near Quebec City got a ride with some drunk Quebequois teenagers who let us crash in thier purple lighted cave of an apartment in Montreal.
We wandered six months, the road stretching before us like a consstant 
mirage.
Now it takes us ten mnutes to struggle from house to car, me carrying walker and wheelchair for him – this is how the journey ends?

once he rode
into her life magician
on a green
antique motorcycle
wind rain cloud chaser