361
Beauty
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PREVIOUS DRAFTS
Beauty
Blinding asphalt on ribbon roads through hills built like firm breasts.
Hand clutched on the shift stick knuckles white tight and smooth. Your rough voice fills the arched car cave, splintering the air. Thick with all we made last night, all we found there in dark so deep it's liquid. You are caught in my slick throat, scratchy, sinewy, bare and I throw back my head, laughing gun shots fired in the wake of whatever it was we had. These words spell history in black and white though I don't see all life that way. I don't see you that way. My language lacks the strength to show you who I am. So I'll keep driving and keep quiet for awhile.
Hand clutched on the shift stick knuckles white tight and smooth. Your rough voice fills the arched car cave, splintering the air. Thick with all we made last night, all we found there in dark so deep it's liquid. You are caught in my slick throat, scratchy, sinewy, bare and I throw back my head, laughing gun shots fired in the wake of whatever it was we had. These words spell history in black and white though I don't see all life that way. I don't see you that way. My language lacks the strength to show you who I am. So I'll keep driving and keep quiet for awhile.
Beauty
Beauty
Blinding asphalt on ribbon roads through hills
built like firm breasts. Hand clutched on the shift stick
knuckles white tight and smooth. Your rough voice fills
the arched car cave, splintering the air. Thick
with all we made last night, all we found there
in dark so deep it's liquid. You are caught
in my slick throat, scratchy, sinewy, bare
and I throw back my head, laughing gun shots
fired in the wake of whatever it was
we had. These words spell history in black
on white and I don't see my life that way.
I don't see you that way. My language lacks
the strength to show you who I am. So I'll
keep driving and keep quiet for awhile.
built like firm breasts. Hand clutched on the shift stick
knuckles white tight and smooth. Your rough voice fills
the arched car cave, splintering the air. Thick
with all we made last night, all we found there
in dark so deep it's liquid. You are caught
in my slick throat, scratchy, sinewy, bare
and I throw back my head, laughing gun shots
fired in the wake of whatever it was
we had. These words spell history in black
on white and I don't see my life that way.
I don't see you that way. My language lacks
the strength to show you who I am. So I'll
keep driving and keep quiet for awhile.
Beauty
Blinding asphalt on ribbon roads through hills
built like firm breasts. Hand clutched on the shift stick
knuckles white tight and smooth. Your rough voice fills
the arched car cave, splintering the air. Thick
with all we made last night, all we found there
in dark so deep it's liquid. You are caught
in my slick throat, scratchy, sinewy, bare
and I throw back my head, laughing gun shots
fired in the wake of whatever it was
we had. These words spell history in black
on white and I don't see my life that way.
I don't see you that way. My language lacks
the strength to show you who I am. So I'll
keep driving and keep quiet for awhile.
built like firm breasts. Hand clutched on the shift stick
knuckles white tight and smooth. Your rough voice fills
the arched car cave, splintering the air. Thick
with all we made last night, all we found there
in dark so deep it's liquid. You are caught
in my slick throat, scratchy, sinewy, bare
and I throw back my head, laughing gun shots
fired in the wake of whatever it was
we had. These words spell history in black
on white and I don't see my life that way.
I don't see you that way. My language lacks
the strength to show you who I am. So I'll
keep driving and keep quiet for awhile.