A maiden
of Cypress
she in
a coupe
devill found
her lot
on the
freeway with
me but
on the
week-end we
tour up
the coast
and while
Pygmalion scored
a hit
on tv.

A second television show
rose Dec 2017

The way people perceive you isn't gospel
You're one of those flowers freckled alongside the highway
Always mistaken as a weed

yellah girl Oct 2017

growing up, i lived on the
highways between FL & KY
either in the cab of my dad's truck
or the backseat of my mom's ford.

streetlights became stars, &
the stars became my universe
i saw my first meteor at 3am
on the road back from TN.

Halloweens were spent in the cab
with Bugle's on my fingertips,
cackling like a witch.

Christmas was an adventure,
stuffed into the backseat between
blankets & winter clothes.

breakfast was a McGriddle,
lunch was a bag of chips & soda
from the gas stations & truck stops,
and dinner was my favorite, always
at Cracker Barrel, beside the fire place
surrounding by my family & others.

the highway is my home, &
i wouldn't have it any other way.

Looking back, I see now that I had a very nomadic childhood, either traveling across the state lines with my dad or my mom, moving every 3 years when the bug bites.
alex Oct 2017

and i’d like for it to sound poetic.
poetic and sad
“the car smelled of
cigarette smoke
as we swerved
on an empty highway
waiting for the sun
to catch up”
nah.
neither of us smokes
and you didn’t swerve
and the highway wasn’t empty
and it was only
eleven p.m.
we weren’t running from the sun
i’d like to say
we were chasing it
but baby when
have we ever done something
so brave?
nah.
it would even be poetic
to admit that we’re cowards
but we aren’t those either
we’re just fuckin people
you know?
that’s all we are
that’s all anyone is
driving on a highway at eleven p.m.
with other people
who are just people
and fuck
if that isn’t the most poetic
and sad shit
that i’ve heard all day.
ha.
turns out the highway
was empty
after all.

Xaviera Allan Oct 2017

Brown sugar soup
It hasn't killed you yet
It's in your intestines
The highway covered by mud
Take a spoon and lick it
The land will shake you off
The road is blocked and you can't talk
There's soup in your throat

That brown sugar soup
It hasn't saved you yet
The mafia finally found you
You will hide in your car
You need some soup
Poison to your belly
Poison to your heart
Poison to your liver
It will kill you first
Living in a tiny toy car
Driving on alone
On a predictable plastic road

Brown sugar soup
All you want is more
Take the car on winding highways
But I think the land has shifted
Take a spoon and dip it
There is no road
The road is gone and you are stoned
There's soup in your blood

That brown sugar soup
It was brewed for you
You lost your money on a card game
What could make life better
You need some soup
Health to your brain
Health to your heart
Health to your soul
You can live again
In a life that will not fit
Outgrow time and clothes
You've seen it all before

Brown sugar soup
It's a potion of luck
Drop your dead weight along the roadside
Look at how much you've gained
Take a spoon and bend it
It's all inside you
The road is round and you won't mind
There's soup in your head

That brown sugar soup
You can't get enough
Your smile isn't listening
Your mind is tethered down
You need some soup
Soup for your belly
Soup for your heart
Soup for your brain
You will die
Tasting sweet on your lips
One thing left to do
You've done it once before

Brown sugar soup
It's all your own fault
You do not belong here
But there's no room on this highway
Take a spoon and use it
Look at how much you have to gain
You need some more brown sugar soup

Annie Sep 2017

They want to change you
Yet break you
They say they don't mean to
But they leave you

You're a damaged piece
They all could see
A sterile seed
Mended but unsealed

There's a long, long way
To the heart you don't give away
A path of dismay
Gravel of things left unsaid

You're a different story
With ravel, no glory
So venomous, so lonely
Ruining yourself impatiently

There's only one way to you
A twisted and crooked route
Understood by just a few
For you bear no truth

You're an illusion, like art
The end of a beautiful start
There yet is
A windy highway to your broken heart

Luna Lima Aug 2017

Driving on country road
Beatles on the radio
Wind is in my hair

A haiku I concieved while driving down the highway.
Allyssa Buenafe Jun 2017

I wonder if truck drivers ever get tired of the open road,
Where cars speed past in angst of their destination,
Red and white lights filling the darkness.
Endless dedication to wearing down the pavement that sticks to the Earth like a bandaid.
I wonder if Earth gets tired of us littering,
Destroying,
Peppering it's surface with blemishes to be reconciled with.
I wonder when humanity is to be torn down,
Another plague roaming the planet ready to be wiped out soon enough.
We don't compare to the locusts,
The frogs,
The volcano ready to wipe us out.
40,000 years overdue,
The ash ready to cover the sky and pollute our lungs until we suffocate.
I wonder what will happen to the highway then,
Maybe reclaimed by the grass that once existed here.
I hope the car lights stop shining,
I hope the truck drivers reach their destination to finally rest from the constant stop-and-go.

Just highway thoughts.
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