361

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. 
Driving quite along the road I walk, with destinations unknown,remembering I don't see you on my way, lessons the spirit of my heart day by day.

 
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