Surrounded by watercolor sunsets,
I'm left with fifty slow miles
of untamed back road.

A half smile stays fixed
on my lips
and tilts slightly to the right.

Cracked pavement makes wheels
tremble in fine rhythms
and the heavy pulse
in my inner thighs
beats to match.

I'm on my way home
and in love
with the single notion
that I've been somewhere.

While I drive,
there's a gentle devil
who sits on my shoulder.
He croons satisfying tones
as he kisses my earlobe
and breathes this message
sensually down
the side of my neck:

“Mmm, baby,
consider this
your first lesson
in survival
on Pleasure Island.”