Drive
i can hear the wet street
under brilliant white walls
black underbellies pressing
themselves softly
against the white lines
the sound of the wheels turning
the rustle of the trees as we pass
a road trip to the infinite
i can reach the reverie here on the highway
a road within a road riding all day with the lights on
a sphinx behind the wheel of a Lincoln Town car
a nipple for the spirit babes to suckle
we go about our days
polishing the dark wood
praying faces into tomorrow as they
drive
drive
drive
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