paved asphalt pass brimley and the 401 provincial highway
windows shy, hiding beneath mid door crevice
giving way for the combing wind
elvis's hairdue comes naturally at 120 km/hour
look in my rear view
her smile illuminates my world
radiates lumens past circuit driven tungsten (W)
corsets my heart into a reoriented rush of ecstatic cross spindled fibers
the joy of the bingo jackpot for the community center regular who plays their last card before going home
an "I 17" echoes through the air

but this card was misread, I 17 was a spot above the required
she was never in the backseat and she was doing us both a favor
just as the grocer who puts eggs at the top of the bag
her smile irradiated the room
her smile came straight from those high beams pleading for a head on collision

azides leaked though a break neck pillow
azides for my esophagus
leading to my sarcophagus