On this night
If given the chance
I’d be riding through the bright city streets of New York
Surpassing the speed limit
In my yellow convertible
Jaguar.

My hair flying high above the state of worry
The music hard, loud, seductive
Blissful amnesia my state of mind
The broken promises, all forgiven
And long ago forgotten.

The wind, an infinite array of scents
Forming a bouquet
Around my disenchantment
And healing the wounds that once ran deep.

Me.
A singular traveler,
Setting forth an adventure
For parts far away
And unfamiliar.