CRUISING

It’s long and sleek, it’s my

47 black Mercury with satin fingers

for tires and manicured white walls

breaking through the barriers in

every town and over state lines.

Bold chrome teeth bite the air. No

road is safe when exhaust dusts

trees and tilted mailboxes.

I got another ride in me, another road

to go while the engine is hot

waiting for me to run the streets.

One more drive without looking back

as my hair blows wild with the wind

I hold tight the wheel on a road

I’ve never cruised before.

 

 

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