Targa Crazy 7
The foot remains pinned to the metal, fast to the floor,
She grips the gear stick hard in the left-hand lane, watching the highway,
Watching back through the glass: as above, so below.
The rearview catches jade eyes that dream and soar,
Through the Queen's land's heat, approaching each Christmas, gone insane and raw,
The foot remains pinned to the metal, fast to the floor.
A middle-finger salute offered to what came before,
She shifts up to targa 7 to breach the physical plane on her spiritual flyway,
Watching back through the glass: as above, so below.
Angels and Demons, drivers perched on each side her shoulders, steering through the roar,
A rock spider for roadkill while she holds onto the reins on her skyway,
The foot remains pinned to the metal, fast to the floor.
Blue sky nods a tepid discourse along to this sworn internal law,
A long-suffering witness that stays in its right-side my way,
Watching back through the glass: as above, so below.
Accelerating past the karma borne, hell-bent on freedom
has no fury like a woman scorned, no time to refrain on this byway.
The foot remains pinned to the metal, fast to the floor,
Watching back through the glass: as above, so below.
Candide Diderot. '26
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