A Letter to Jack (not mine)

Hey, Jack, it's me,
I don't mean to bother you,
but somethings been on my mind.
At the end of this road that climbs,
the horizon will be reached in
a matter of miles.

And when the wheels cease to spin
the walls and the fences will grow higher
than redwood trees.
And I know your demise.
And I fear what will happen when the road fails
to flow under me.

Oh Jack, you see, I felt like your mirror
with the wind whipping through my hair.
When the wheels ceased to spin
and I cased my surroundings
I realized I hadn't gone anywhere.

When the problems I'd left
with couches in alleys,
where no one would ever claim.
And the hardest part was sifting through the pieces
of the rain soaked and rotten remains
when I got home.