Disappointment

You look down me
like the road we drove to California
that time you were gonna make it big
but how you hadn't planned yet,
like the endless desert
you stretched your canvas dreams over
painting trees without roots.
I sat silent shotgun,
watching you reach
to hang your star upon nothing.

I don't know where it all went wrong;
I think it was near the bus stop.
We both watched the man climb off,
with his guitar and wine bottle,
"Follow your dreams" tattooed on one shoulder,
"U-turn" on the other.

I said, "Let's go home,
start a family,
tuck our kids in every night
look back fondly on this dream,
and grow old together."
You said, "Keep driving till I tell you to stop."

I think that was when you became the traveler

and I became the road.