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emma jane Jan 2
I’d give you the hour I had. Slipped down the front steps, into to my boots, “Mom, I’m going to James’ to catch up. Back in an hour,”
“Oh, is that who’s here? Awe tell me how he is,” my mom smiled with warm sandbox concern as she waved out the window. You’ve always been welcome here.
“I think he is doing better he got a new job he likes, going to go hear more,”

We started like we always have, along the awkward edge of fragility, like I might just jump out before you get going too fast. You’re the tooth I have tied against my doorknob; it’ll take escaping the threads of my body to ever find the nerve to kick you clean out. I commit when the road gets quick underneath us. I have always played reluctant and barely convinced to come see you. One layer you thumb against your index; you make me feel like a rookie when I am the older one who knows better, who’s watching her body slouch into a fiddling girl.
We split 2 “****** joints,” no filter - a term you taught me just then, tapping it against my nose before lighting it between your lips. You decided on the cell phone lot along the airstrip; continued your scant refusal to answer my questions, ones about the text from the night before. Insisted the ****** ladies had swept you straight off your feet - no need to go back when you’re feeling so much better.  
Oh good - I will tell my mom that you are well and hear from you late later this week with your prayers to the subtle god of short-term solutions.

No planes took off but we hoped with our eyes pressed against a clear sky.
“Could be Oregon.”
“Yeah, it could be.”
“I’d pack the car tomorrow, you know that.”
“I’d be nice.” I breathed to close this prayer between us. I will meet you there when all else fails. You’d take me there tonight. I hate you so ******* much but I trek out every time you call to look at Oregon through your windshield because it would be nice. We’d stand a chance in Oregon. We could love each other well.
You wrap your hand around my thigh.
“Sorry, had to,” you smirk before retracting it quickly.
“You have a crooked idea of what’s necessary,” it’s gotten us into that backseat only twice over five years but, I have always let your hands test my resolve.
“You’re right. How’s the boyfriend?” you tease as you throw your arm over my seat and the car into reverse.
“Oh, please he’s not my boyfriend,” I dismiss you quickly and watch the scar sweat down the corner of your wry smile, warmly lit by fire between your teeth.
“I think it’s funny. You’ll call me when it’s over so what’s the difference.” I hate that you’re right.

It was a smooth red Mazda roll from the cell phone lot to the roads you came here for, the hidden highway stretches behind the airport. The blood left my chest as your knuckles went white against the transmission.
down shift
down shift
down shift
the darling terror of your acceleration swelled to breath in my lungs. You smile like you remember; I smile as if I don’t. The way the floor caved to meet me the day I got the call. The way you cried into the mirror when you finally woke up to the tempered glass scar that carves across your face. I’ve been the fool in you passenger seat more than I’ll ever admit. My mom would never let me leave the door if I told her the truth, that I only trust you driving this fast with me there. Flying around these wooded bends, I know if I ever want to keep you, I have to be your something to lose.
Don’t worry mom he wouldn’t **** us both.

The first time we did this was the first time after. I thought we were going to park and talk but you wept as we climbed to 200 on the highway. I shook and begged you to slow down.
You wished it had worked. You wished it had worked. I knew the EMT, she told me you wished she had not worked.

I don’t know what is different now but as the night whipped past the empty roads, I wanted to reach out my hands and touch time through the December sunroof, to kiss the creeping truth of scarcity like she was coming home. We are moving so fast through what we have left and oh my god I feel like I can breathe again. I so am afraid for the unsuspecting, praying that any late-night jogger or crossing deer is miles safe from our never stopping in time.
You are not. You love me like a religion, with enough faith to steer straight and trust the road ahead like you know that it will clear it if it’s meant to. But I know you. I know your nightmare isn’t the oak tree you met on this road months ago.
You won’t **** your wrist this time
but if the tires slipped on the melting snow
and we both fly to Oregon through your windshield,
you pray you’re not the only one this time,
begging not to come home.
hello! back on here after a long time
Dave Robertson Nov 2021
Rattle the cassette
with the biro etched “Car Mix”
grab the keys from mum’s bag
“Fill up what you use!”
“…Ok, can I have a fiver then?”
scuff to the car in unsuitable boots
slump in, adjust mirror, checking stupid fringe
which then existed
snap in the tape so the first bars
of G-Funk, grunge or B*Witched pulse
then it’s off to pick up
Andrew Oct 2021
that orange smiled

from the open hands
of the trees

it danced
and rejoiced
when it saw the good - there -

the ghost, from this past rain
began to wallow
and whisper to me

look at
look at
look at
how happy this all is

it had stopped now
- of course - what was new
of something meant to pass, but I didn’t worry,
it was all okay

I looked at the sky, that

and I said to myself

look at how happy this all is
Elizabeth Zenk May 2021
He is the full moon

my eyes they drift up

from the two white lines

just a moment at a time

a flirt with death

a touch of gravel

He is the full moon

my eyes they drift up

from a parked car

an hour at a time

I’m late again

a touch on my arm

He is the full moon tonight

but he will wane

he will shrink

his love will weazen

I will be left alone

I will not be whole

She is my new moon.
Be my new moon
David Naumann May 2021
Go where the road untangles and unfurls
by those cliff side views over those blue curls
lit only by those high beams off those white pearls.

Only sense of direction is the road ahead
no going back just only forwards instead
as going prevents drifting to the sea bed.

The white sea foam crashes amongst the shore
those high beams persist only for Salvadore
the light bends around the corner then no more.
The seaside below and its ebb and flow.
Juliana Apr 2021
I hope every day
brings you as much joy
as you felt riding down
that Florida highway.

I hope you can drive
with the windows down,
sunroof open,
a convertible as safe
as your recurring fairytale.

I hope the wind
blows through your hair,
the humidity feeling
like a warm hug
from the clouds.

I hope the music is loud,
and you know every word.

I hope you’re present.
Ahmad Attr Apr 2021
I said talk about love
My heart raced fast
I turned my brain off
But you were in your fancy car
You texted you were going fast
With wheels on asphalt

I said show me how you rev your engines
Pick me up
Drive through my city
Drive through the dark
My heart raced fast
I turned my brain all off
And We were in your fancy car
You said you want to go **** fast
Music on
Your favorite song
Ninety one
Going all night long
Drive until the dawn of morning star
We can go to the snooker bar
It’s all home wherever we go wherever we are
No such thing as going too far

But I said I want to talk
And you’re going too **** fast
Wheels on asphalt
You forget that I’m here
Wheels on asphalt
I shout but you don’t hear
Drive me off, let me go
But it’s getting crystal clear
You like showing off
Your money and your white car

I just wanted to talk about love
But you can’t have enough
Of your fancy car
Going all so fast
So I just turn my brain all off
Wheels on asphalt
A poem/song about toxic relationship
g Mar 2021
Driving 90 miles down the highway at 3am on a Tuesday
Hair flying in the backseat radio blasting at 30
the future is bleak
And the past is dreary
18 years old almost on the edge of 19
Emotions seem unbearable and other times weak
Nothing is ever alright I just sit in my room
and imagine myself grown over night
I cant pretend the future isn’t scary id be lying if I said that
I act a 1000 years my age no one understands that
I don’t know my purpose The search might take my lifetime
What happens when the lights go out ?  Am I in heaven ? Am I alright ?
To say I have worries is way over my head, anxiety creeps in while I’m laying in bed
Is it wrong to think I’m meant for more than this life ?
Think positive think positive I’m trying cant you see !
The more I think positive the more unfortunate I believe
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