cooled by the bucket
seat of a flaming Corvair
burning to the sounds
that define Us

like windshield wipers
with rusty
blades

radio waves
remaining defiant through
familiar names

suck in another cherished breath
the exhaust tastes sweeter
living from real to reel

read to me
i forget my line
in return
i’ll tape an "X"
for You to
stand on

sure, We can’t help what We fall into
but getting out is easier
when the seatbelt doesn’t
hold You back

step out
into the night
it feels more like night
when the streets are wet

i won’t adjust my mirror
only remember that a.m.
is not nearly so romantic