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AlisonWildPoems
sending you the wind in my hair, and highways lit up so bright at night that you feel like a movie star, and you gotta wear your cheap shades at midnight just to get through Circus Ville machine dreams, big rigs, perfect coffee hot & fresh, god bless truck stops, buy a fluffy key chain, three pounds beef jerky, ride all night out into the  hand-painted desert where you know you don't belong when the rocks turn into freighters & sail over you like pirate schooners in the coming dawn, & the price of your awe is more than you can afford so you laugh, step hard on the gas, turn it up dylan rasps out some ****** tempest tunes all you can think of is how pure this air he's singing about scarlet town, where you were born, and you try to understand, but feel it instead because there is where you were born listening for twining leaf & thorn casting out for clues, in the blue vastness of his voice in your husband's old bmw racing through towns to nowhere listening, breathing, playing a few rounds of some game inside your hollow point head before the sun comes back to the huge cacti eats your eyes, swallows this plain we love the feel of highway beneath us wind everywhere, touching us in places we need to feel something all-american something about the car indulgent as some old rock song I still love, like my sharona, I am helpless hopeful driving no resist in me for you, pulls me in every time road and wind and that beat let's g-go, speeding my lovely engine, my sweet machine stutter it to me car shaking shudders my ***** 336 miles to go tonight time to ride ~a~
0
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
my my desert
sending you the wind in my hair, and highways lit up so bright at night that you feel like a movie star, and you gotta wear your cheap shades at midnight just to get through Circus Ville machine dreams, big rigs, perfect coffee hot & fresh, god bless truck stops, buy a fluffy key chain, three pounds beef jerky, ride all night out into the  hand-painted desert where you know you don't belong when the rocks turn into freighters & sail over you like pirate schooners in the coming dawn, & the price of your awe is more than you can afford so you laugh, step hard on the gas, turn it up dylan rasps out some ****** tempest tunes all you can think of is how pure this air he's singing about scarlet town, where you were born, and you try to understand, but feel it instead because there is where you were born listening for twining leaf & thorn casting out for clues, in the blue vastness of his voice in your husband's old bmw racing through towns to nowhere listening, breathing, playing a few rounds of some game inside your hollow point head before the sun comes back to the huge cacti eats your eyes, swallows this plain we love the feel of highway beneath us wind everywhere, touching us in places we need to feel something all-american something about the car indulgent as some old rock song I still love, like my sharona, I am helpless hopeful driving no resist in me for you, pulls me in every time road and wind and that beat let's g-go, speeding my lovely engine, my sweet machine stutter it to me car shaking shudders my ***** 336 miles to go tonight time to ride ~a~
this is a trip I made over eight years ago, alone, first time driving a BMW, to meet my husband at a fancy conference, on a whim, and it was thrilling to drive that car, on those highways, so much so that I didn't want to stop, but just keep driving. . . . .
#highway#desert#car
Written by
AlisonWild
F/California
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
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