her leasuire face painted thick
hangs in the evening light of the car backseat
disembodied and surreal
passing headlights demonstrate the subtle differences
between her left and right eyes
they each shout casual references to deviancy
but neither comes clear to route this is achieved
so one is left wondering at that implied reality
you can almost taste its impeccable champagne quality
but you know that its aftertaste is of cheap cotton candy  
she has been speaking non-stop and your
mind returns from its wandering vacation to her thought caravan
an endless stream of weary wagonloads of useless information
you look with longing to the desert of his thoughtless mutterings
least there you are not expected to acknowledge
or recompense
she leans back and unfolds her duplicity
like a sly smile on a sinister face
it comes out whole and unbroken
birthed without a sound on the seat next to you
its wet foul skin touches your repulsed skin
she quickly gathers it back and pushes it into her many pockets
with a nervous laugh
and quick fearful glances at his unseeing face
in the front seat
he mummers on
you catch a phrase or two before he subsides
the cat has been chased and now rests
the day is long but not long enough
as you arrive at your fate
and the car ceases movement
you spring from its confines
to the last clutch fingers of her lust
and the dour eye of his steering wheel
another night survived
her skin follows you inside
and lay next to all night
creating sounds and moving in subtle ways
you lay staring at the ceiling unable to rest
end