dashboard jesus was telling me how plastic togas make sociopaths feel something
and   he knew that i was saving the ****** for later
but only subconsciously. so...
my terrible driving was the mysterious way
his father reminds him
to take his
medication

i'm staring at the sun
yelling at texas

going sixty to destination zero
and the air
is gasping for air
even
with the top down

and dashboard jesus
has to scream
to make
small
talk
and that's funny
to me.

then i miss you.

but then there's some beautiful cloud
and an epileptic messiah
with a bad habit.

on backroads
that were actually
front seats.

this is how my exit was returning
so i never looked back
and besides...
who really needs that much
salt ?