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For you, dear 11:54 p.m. 2007-05-09 I kick in the accelerator, like locked doors, until the wind whips through glass so hard it hurts and its something real. I turn up the volume until the speakers shudder and pop and the crescendo of sound drowns out the howl of high speed air turbulence and i can't hear my own breathing. And the wind always steals the cherry from my smoke, but my breath sparks all the fire i need and i nurse that cigarette back to life with inhalations and grins and curses and people in the cars next to me always seem a little bit disturbed to see it. And i'm speeding away from you, rate 100 miles an hour, its true, but it feels like you're still in the seat next to mine, with narcotics in your purse and a sweet, sweet dream perched between perfectly pursed lips, telling me the world as it should be and you as you are to teach me the meaning of reflections in rainfall puddles and in the glass of my windshield. You are eyes and fingers, hips and legs and an ideal i've never fully grasped before. So the wind whips the air from my lungs and the songs from my lips and the rising tides of my smoke until all that's left is the transparent indentation of your memory in the seat across the stickshift from mine. And the air behind me blurs with lacecurtain butterflywings of exhaust and insecurity fluttering like abandoned suicide letters and i can't help but see that ex suicidal fourteen year old girl running barefoot through hillscapes in the glare of headlights behind mine. And in the vacuum all that's left are the words that you spoke so sweetly and so sincerely and I am left with nothing but sleepyeyed blurs of vision, and peace. back & forth |