Turn if you may from battles never done

3:45 is the best part of my day. Bookbag in passenger seat, truck cab 90 plus full of Evergreen scent-- chewing gum melt in its aluminum on the dash. I take the long way. Charging through suburban sprawl, silk slip slides to the floorboards, jacket in the backseat, hair down, flying 60 past cross guards and catching the green across Racetrack if I'm lucky. Slow to the mandated speed, windows down, sky empty blue. The air rushes through , up forearms and to cheeks, meshing sunlight, calvin-klein specs and curls in to a screen of moving copper-gold. Then in a flash, 50-odd seconds of pure unadulterated bliss. Curve past walls of vinecovered picket fences, gaurding cookie-cutter ranches from nothing dangerous, and they send the aura of sun-heated jazmine. This is what happiness smells like-- hot jazmine, winterfresh Extra, and dashboard dust on the breeze; 50 seconds between 'out there' and 'home' . But it's like a headache, you never quite when it's gone. Soon it's through the roundabout and flying 90 on the backroads, past the four-way stop. Tires roll in to an oil-stained cull-de-sac. I take the long way. 8 minutes a day that hold my sanity.