A blizzard.
A truck.
A mem'ry of two drivers
crazy enough to venture
where their parents warned
of wrecks.
Unhanded wheels and trust
too easy to pretend.
A road trip.
A border.
A photo turned to painting
but never quite completed
before the altered lease.
That immortal laugh
too evil to appease.
He still drives in shitty weather
when it's worth it, only slower.
She can thank his guilty conscience
for the breaths she takes with ease.
There are some mistakes you learn from--
Rattled cages sworn for sabers.
That dreadful thing that drives you--
Never pry it from your sleeve.
Currently reading:
"Journal of a Novel: The 'East of Eden' Letters" by John Steinbeck.
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