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When writer's block means everything 11:14 p.m. 2008-03-25 We put the stereo on random, kick in the accelerator like finding divinity on highways and cut our teeth on this new brand of city lights and old music. My fingertips run the length of steering wheels and thighs that never were really mine, she finds eternity out the rearview and my veins run the length of this state from my wrists to my elbows. When the wind lifts and we forget to breath the speed limits don't mean anything back & forth |