Road trips with old cars
With ski racks and kayaks
Park and open the sunroof
And we can fall asleep
Gazing up at the stars,
Or at eachother, whichever
Who's up for a long escape?

It was a hand me down,
An old Chevy that grandpa didn't need,
It was just a little truck,
But it would do,
Blue and silver, with rust sprouting up here and there,
A creaky tailgate,
No ac, but a sunroof,
Comfy seats that held you like a race car,
The smell of dust wafting from the vents
It had a little engine that needed work,
It had old tires that needed to be replaced,
A layer of dust that needed to be washed off.
But I didn't care,
It was my first truck!

New engine,
New tires,
A deluxe wash at the co-op,
And a black ice air freshener,
This truck was born again.

Spinning tires and dust flying,
Rolling down the streets and tearing up the gravel roads,
This truck purred like a kitten.
I didn't care if people had bigger trucks,
Newer trucks,
Fancier trucks,
This was my first truck
And I loved it!

when I walked in my stomach was screaming nerves,
my heart felt fluttery from my first of many iced black coffees.
I fixed my eyes fixed on the black hightops I stared at everyday during first period,
the peeling rubber toes pointing straight at me.

I looked up, meeting eyes with the spitting image of Kurt Cobain
who smirked at me curiously, then lifted a finger, and turned into the kitchen.
I busied myself untying my boots, even though they had zippers,
promising myself I wouldn’t loose my balance.

The high tops returned, followed by weathered leather moccasins,
who murmured through his teeth “hmmm, designing with materials girl” .
I grinned through my eyes, attempting not to make myself intimate with the floor so soon,
expertly faking breathy laugh to cover up how utterly freaked the unfamiliar title made me.

High tops grabbed my waist and twirled me into the kitchen,
offering a cigarette before disappearing through the screen door and leaving me
in a room filled with music that ran through my head like a brush
combing out the tangles from driving with my sunroof down.

I was surrounded by people with purple hair and overflowing hearts
who floated around the room singing and talking and dancing
while I wondered how I should fill the shoes of my new title
and what kind of shoes I should even be filling.

out of the corner of my eye, I saw high tops march back ;
he didn’t seem to float but parade, his ponytail not quite matching his muscle shirt arms.
He waltzed right up to moccasins and kissed him proper on the mouth
hands holding his jaw, eyes closed, and balanced on his toes.

Satisfied, he stormed back out through the screen
pulling a pack of blacks and a white lighter from his back pocket
(he would soon tell me he didn’t believe in luck,
even though it was in his pocket when he was arrested over a houseplant).

Moccasins just smiled, eyes rolling up into his brown hair
and with his hands out palms ceilingward in a silent offer, he locked his eyes on mine
Before I had a chance to overanalyze,
he decided for me.

Maintaing eye contact, we danced to the 22 year old boys screaming through the boom box
while I tried to integrate myself into the scene,
tried to float so effortlessly too,
like the cigarette smoke oozing in from the patio

he pulled me into a hug that resented gravity
effortlessly lifting all six feet of me off the ground,
pressing my cheek against the cutoff edge of his tie dye tank top,
my blonde hair tugging between his chest and mine

So with fuzzy lemonade on my lips
and bass players hands on my hips
I figured out I didn't need shoes
if i never touched the ground.

I've waited countless nights
For the sun to rise
And finally found the light
When I searched in your eyes.

Your love shone so bright
It sent my soul awry
And though day turns to night
I've never felt so alive.

As I ride along on a beautiful day
Windows down
Eyes on the road
Concentrated on where I am going
The situations of the day blow away
They even go out the sunroof
Even moving to God's ear
And somehow my cares aren't there anymore
So I love to ride along
Windows down
Feeling like I have a crown on my head
Sending all bad thoughts to bed
That sun is beaming down making my forehead red cuz u kno I'm light skinned
All my hurts of the day are mended when I ride with the windows down

Country never felt like home to me.
Kansas open road stretches –
for forever, these empty badlands,
and you screaming next to me out an open patch
of freedom
through the blocked air of my sunroof,
letting your soul run free in the gun slate
of the elastic sky.
Acidic gas station coffee lingers on your lips,
a stained kiss for the magnetic sunset,
while Colorado mountains crest the distant horizon.
Country never felt like home to me,
before roads, before skyscrapers,
before my love of the city,
there was just land, just these mountains.
Country never felt like home to me.
Maybe that’s why I feel so free.

packed in the family car,
going slow down the smaller
roads. radio set to a classics
station. we talked about
the latest news, things
we've heard, how work was.
sitting in silence for part of
the ride, as we listened to the
wind from the sunroof and
windows.

the apple picking harvest
is back again. I can't wait
for supple afternoons with
a crisp breeze. drinking
sweet cider and munching
on powdered rounds.
walking orchard rows of
tower trees \plucking red
noses high and low.

sneaking bites in between
picks, juice dripping down
face and sticky fingers.
it's like you're a child again,
on slow weekend mornings.
dragging day passes on,
the parts tied in
conversations and quiet
moments. crack of twigs
a crushed creed

that fills the spaces of apples
falling to the floor, bruised
by a sharp hit. I pick them
up to look at, taking in the
dents and gray flesh. I
throw them back to the
compost beneath the fruit
tree. the pieces that escape
scars, I plop into my sack
that's gradually getting
heavier.

I drove dad’s Chevy for the first time one Sunday morning
In a storm.
His old, blue, dented, beat-up, ninety-seven Chevy.
In a storm!
Who would have even let me take control
Of this two-ton machine on a sunny day, when
The raindrops didn’t cover the windshield like a blanket,
And the wipers actually helped to push them aside?
When I couldn’t see my scared reflection in the puddles on the road?
When the worn down tires had traction on the asphalt?
I was going thirteen in a thirty-five, and the
Old woman behind me honked her horn at me
To the tune of a song abundant with cursing.
My heart was beating at the speed of the piston’s pumping,
And my knuckles were white on the wheel
Like little snow-capped mountains.
I was inches from the wheel, and I looked over the windshield
Like a kid at an ice cream store, only
My eyes were not filled with hope for a
Rocky road sundae.
Dad, on the other hand,
Was as calm as the patter of the rain on the sunroof;
Relaxed as the trees in their suburban backyards.
I guess it all goes to show you
How much faith my father has in me.
Or,
How stupid and stubborn he can be sometimes.
But aren’t those really just the same things?

for Patrick,
                    if he can still hear me

Rise, every neighbor!
Hear the cacophony of dragon fire
BANG, BANG
and the pitter patter rain fall of disease
T T T T
pouring over your households this evening.

Catch that butterfly, there, boy!
And know that in your future you will be begging
to look as hideous as a moth
banging your skull against the roof of my trunk
as I drive away with your body.

You beg me
give me reason!
and I try, but it's so difficult
I don't want to live!
and what am I supposed to do to help
when you don't want the help I give?

And we plead to gaze at stars over the Causeway
going seventy in the sunroof as off in Norco
the refineries let go a blaze jealous of the sun.

The moon doesn't shine as brightly as I remember.
Maybe I was too young to understand light pollution
or maybe it's the gnawing away of the ozone
as my skin tightens and ages over my teeth.

Do you understand how permanent
death
is?

Let me show you, this:
the vision you are trying to make me live through;
I will not let you force me into folding
your hands over your chest
while the embalming fluid grows stiff
beneath your cold hands.

I *will not cry for you, if you bleed out your sorrows on a tile floor
or over a dark carpet
or crushed against the wall in your blue Mustang.

I will not cry for you,
but for the life you left behind,
the life you took, the life you stole
from me.

ME.

I have faced death with weakening knees;
I have knelt before the toilet whispering
please someone anyone
when it was too early in the morning for anyone to hear.

I have emptied the medicine cabinet of its promising contents
to find that nothing but
nothing
waited for me on the other side of ignorance.

Pain;
and it rains lightly on Tuesday evenings.

Somewhere behind the doorjamb is a flute
being played by a breeze
through the window you left open.

The note you will never write is tickled by the wind
and a thousand sunsets later--
I do not forget you.

it all starts to blur together and every day fades further from the horizon.
every word uttered, every smile grinned, every surface touched
falls short from the whole when not lead back to you.
I haven't recognized my name since it was last spoken from your mouth.
I haven't let my hands float above the sunroof as I've traveled down each lonely highway, stretching farther away from you.
I haven't exhaled all the air in my lungs or been able to relax all the tension in my muscles from their constant preparation for the crash-
waiting on standby only makes the blow more painful.
I haven't been able to swim in the ocean without feeling your love.
you're like a tide, pulling me back and shooting me out again, crashing over my body with immense pressure, yet so soothing- coating every cell on my body with liquid- you pour over me and drown me whole.
I haven't been able to sleep the same.  
Every time they ask me how I'm doing or if I still love you, I mutter about the "not enoughness" and the lack of, while staring at my hands, trying to retrace the last time i ate a full meal or fell asleep for more than three hours.
The one thing I run back to kills me like a bullet, firing all the way through:
The smoke in my lungs mimics the breathlessness I felt when you choked my throat
It's turning me to ashes,  
but I choose to not get better.
There's some correlation between the way your existence has haunted me like a ghost,
Sticking to my skin like all this inhaled smoke,
Demanding for the light to be left on in case you wander from the unknown-
Back to your garden, your chokehold, your throne.

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,”
“Elvridge?”
“yeah”
“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.

I wake to remember
my sunroof is open.
I wake to leave words on the path.

I wake like a gardener
illiterate in Nature,
who nonetheless prays for the math.

The Solemn shows Wicked
the chess pieces burning.
a light that gives fuel is its task.

I wake just to tell you
my sunroof is open.
My words, as the rain's, not to last.

I don't know where we're going,
but I can tell you where I've been..
and I'd tell you every detail,
but you'd throw me to the wind

you think you want to know,
what made me who I am,
but you have no idea,
where these blurry eyes once ran

I'd give these words to you,
from the bottom of my heart,
but you'd be wondering where I left you
and you'd forget what made you start..

Things are not as easy,
as we all want them to be,
but life is just a challenge,
given to you and me.

If you dig too deep into it,
with anyone but yourself,
you risk loosing everything
a pattern that never fails

I've seen the way the tides roll in,
I've watched a plane take flight,
I've witnessed the birth of brand new life,
I've seen a grown man cry

I've been through towns I couldn't pronounce,
I've learned a lesson or two,
I've given up hope on a lasting love,
but I'll never give up on you

I've watched the sun rise from the East
while the moon followed closely
I've watched the planets I cannot fathom
shine brighter then the last one

I've been through the rain that I couldn't foresee
but I've bypassed a storm that sure would've killed me
and I've survived a few falls I shouldn't have had
while making a few choices that made a few people mad

I've flown over oceans, for hours on end,
I've deleted a few answers, when I should've hit send
I've answered a few questions that cost a few friends
but I've never lost respect for the powers that lend.

I'm thankful for the things
the greater being lets me see
and I live every day happy to breathe
I'll be there for you, forever and always
we can roam the states bumpy highways
open the sunroof so I can sit and stargaze
I'm sorry its not what you want it to be,
but maybe a friendship is just what you need...

You ever see someone or something so beautiful you just stare? Like when you catch the sunset shining through the branches at just the right angle? Or like the old tree with the initials of time-worn lovers? I think it's like when the waves crash against the rocks. When you stick your head out of the sunroof on the highway. When you can feel the color blue. You are blue. They are blue. You don't realize it but you know what blue feels like. Think about the colors. Focus. Think about your next move. But not too much. Don't focus on the way her lips curve and how they're the same color as good red wine. Don't focus on her eyes where you see stars. But the really pretty ones where if you stare for a while they start changing colors. Remember way back what you did last time. But don't repeat it. Follow the stars. Love is not a playlist that can be looped and shuffled. It can only go on. They have to be your favorite artist. A mixtape called "Blue". Where each song takes you to a wide open field where flowers bloom. To the theatre where you saw everything you wanted in star-crossed lovers. The sun sets and the trees can't help but let the light flow right through them. Be like the trees. Strong. But let it happen. Because maybe it's just the right angle for once.

Red reeds and a freckle of flowers bowing
before rubber wheels
tossing pebbles and sand and a whirlwind of dust.

Their plan had caught wind and taken flight against them,
like an ardent breath that leaps from battle chests
that knowingly march somewhere behind the tall thick of trees.

The rain won the sprint before the inky giants (stuck in the review mirror)
and began to speckle the seats from the gaping sunroof,
but the lovers hadn’t noticed.

Their hearts beat in unison, adrenaline seemingly driving the engine.
Four, bone-white knuckles chocking to hang on:
one pair on the steering wheel, one on the other’s shoulder, and one on the door handle.

The tires drop off and bash themselves against the stones
beneath a spray of clay and water and maggots,
as they swerve off the beaten path.

They wade through the churning waves of grasses
the wind now rushing past, splashing against their spine –
their naked necks and tangled locks swimming in the invisible rapids.

Their sanctuary lay before the whirlpools,
deeply rooted, scarred with letters, scarred with hearts,
and beautifully draped with thin weeping twigs, tied off with lace.

The car’s backend swung as the tires drifted.
The two men flung themselves inside the umbrella of branches,
untied the lacy bows, and drew the curtains closed

The willow tree would have to stand in for their officiant,
for their family, their friends, their honored guests and witnesses,
for they had none.

They both stood in front of the tree as the wind swayed,
once from behind him, and then once from behind him,
all the while their tearful eyes exchanged  silent “I dos”.

The one reached inside a burrow beneath the great trunk,
to retrieve their rings and crowns of flowers,
while the other anxiously stood watch behind him, awaiting the thunder.

Gentle hands ringed their fingers with silver bands,
and crowned their heads with white and blue petals,
then carefully chiseled into the bark their names and their heart with a pocket knife.

The two men pressed their palms to the tree to receive their blessing,
and then pressed their lips together, now salty and wet,
sealing their souls with a slow passionate kiss.

But instead of a burst of rice freely sprinkling the atmosphere
there was a burst of shotgun pellets
tearing through the whispers of love and leaves.

The men sprinted to the car,
dodging the fires of intimidation,
and drove off with their life, leaving behind the fear and shame.

They turned on the heater to try to warm up.
but it was long before they were dry,
the rain’s echo nearly drowning out the sounds of their shared breaths.

Stick around
Shucks shucks
Long necks like water pipes
You spout words I like
Words I like

The bench we sit on can’t hold our excitement
Our legs like jackhammers
****** wildly
And there’s no switch to turn them on or off
Our word centipede crawls into our butterfly bellies our
Awkwardly loud laughter
Fuels our one way-two-way train wreck
You’re funny
I like it
I like it

I’m twisting my wire pipe fingers into
Infinite loops
I won’t stop
Because there’s no clocks in our world
They only tick away for legs
Straight and solid like enslaved cement blocks that sway
Only when forced by the machines they’re trapped between
The machines that
Won’t let them stop moving
And we’re breathing
Breath as fluid and exact as the clocks that don’t exist
Between our bodies so fitting

I think gosh gee
I think
If I could
I’d tell you it’s okay to sit closer
And the sun wouldn’t be the only burning
Gem in this world
Ill float upstairs with you
And the overhead light of your staircase wouldn’t be the only bulb burning bright and bold
The mattress a pseudo pool
Of fierce waters
And shallow rivets
Hearts inside clamshells
That peak out
Hesitantly
From salty sweat erupting from jackhammer limbs
Invigorating
Tell me you mean it
My taste buds sting with your coat
Of dangerous bumpy roads
And car sick groans and moans
My head hits the window and then your shoulder blade
And lastly the front seat
Drive me away
No
Drive me home
Drive me straight into this pit of broken glass and wrecked car doors
****** specks against cracked windows
The cracked sunroof fills with debris
Blundering amongst a whirl of unexpected destruction
and the eyes remain glossy and indifferent
Where star dust and bellowing wolves
Sink silently
Glare slovenly with laser beam vision
Sneering
Sniffing for a heartbeat lightening bolt
Shiny pearly whites
Against
Rusty stained gums
Hurdling into each other with irrevocable force
Beneath the corset of Athena’s bloated body
Where babies curl underneath to go die
They bleed ****** blotches unto bruised blisters, bleak and bolted tight
By warrior instincts now
Infantile, fetal
Caused by the men who tore off more then they could chew
Chosen like a useless card in a mismatched deck
No second thoughts I said
Why me
I said why me
Floating into your room
I’m a piece of furniture
A lamp a chair your headboard beating fiercely against your brittle wall
You look at me with double vision while my eyelashes remain speckled with the tears of
Spotty speeches and surly surfing
Amongst warm waves of love god would be jealous of
I’ll say it again
Tell me you mean it

1
Mommy and Daddy and their friends have been drinking wine again
Their breath now sweet to smell
So I don’t mind as much.
Kevin and I take turns being pushed in the giant yellow swing.
My little legs dangle out the bottom
I am five years old.

2
The swing rests on an ancient looking tree
It stretches its strong oak arms up until I can no longer see
I am pushed in the swing, higher and higher
My laughing, loud, booming
Innocent

3
The cold air sweeps through my little lungs
I am hurled up into the moon
Finger tips not nearly long enough to reach her
she kisses me on each cheek
With her soft, glowing lips.

4
I am riding in the car with you now
Sunroof open, the autumn air whipping through my hair
As we ride with all windows down
And the sunroof open.
Go up into the sky you say to me
Let the stars hold you, and the night be a friend
I push myself up onto the dashboard with that same strength that I pushed with
In that yellow swing some fifteen years ago
The cold air wraps all around me
I am flying back into the moon and she greets me with a crooked smile
This is refreshing as the air belts through my lungs
Stinging every inch of me until I am numb.

5
When did I lose my innocence?

The day we fell in love, the world stood still for the first time.
No movement other than the midsummer air humming electric,
the warmth of our words rising up into dense clouds
and gray atmospheres of sticky potential.
I remember thinking, as our dewy skin melted into the grass,
how strange it was that the world kept turning constantly.
Cars speeding on hazy interstates, babies being born in porcelain bathtubs.
Screen doors slamming in distant houses, ivy crawling across
the windowpanes of writers who will never see their name sprawled
across musky paper spines. Houses torched, brakes cut, hair trimmed.
Somewhere, an arthritic old man sets his newspaper down. It is raining.
He dances, flood water cascading around his ankles. He only thinks of her.
City lights paint taxi exhaust bright green. It is nighttime in the city
and teenagers drive recklessly through underground tunnels,
hands raised through the sunroof of their father’s cars
as the yellow light bleeds into their corneas.
Everything is set in motion, the day’s suffocating inertia of color,
a spinning top cacophony of mindless rebirth.


It is different today. You kiss me softly, velvet-lipped and eager,
and the world stops turning. The streets of Mumbai are silent.
There are no babies screeching in the quiet rooms
of church services, no hearts in the midst of being shattered.
The old man stops dancing.
His eyes are closed, her face still sketched on the backs of his eyelids.


The sky sees nothing but us.

Drifting over asphalt,
stars slipping through the sunroof.
Full throttle.

He turned all to suddenly
(and not suddenly enough)
right into me.

Jokes on him,
he turned with plenty of room
I just never hit the break.

And as the story goes
he’s blamed as the guy
who killed my parents daughter,

when actually she slipped away,
through the sunroof and to the stars,
many years ago...

I turned the engine over and drove to my place. Not my house, my place: MY place, where I can listen to albums and stare out across the city.

I climbed up through the sunroof to get out in the raw air, it’s a broiling 95 degrees but so much better than being inside. Cars move on I-80, stopping and going. The sun hides behind the west mountains and leaves ribbons of brilliant burning orange in the sky and reflected in the great salt lake. I can see for miles in every direction.

This moment is so cliché
and stupid
and fantastic
and freeing.

I wonder how I’ll survive this heat. One day at a time, just like everything else.

chill of the winter night
drifting through the open sunroof
throbbing stars
a crisp breeze
licking our skin
invading our bodies with tingling goosebumps
slipping ourselves the pill of oblivion
drifting into a reality
that perhaps only existed in our minds
we did believe our imaginations
much more comfortably
than we would ever believe reality

so we sat there
slumped on the black leather seats
watching the notes spill from the speakers
and dissipate into the air

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.

A circle.

We were sitting in a circle together playing a game of tag with our eyes, trying to steal the thoughts and actions of the other when you looked at me in that way.

I talked to you all the time just like I did everyone else, and then I realized how I really saw you.

"you smell nice." and "that was cute." made things more genuine when they passed from your lips.

I mentally winked at myself like you did at me the first day.

fingers intertwined as you made jokes about holding my hand, you tried to make it less awkward by only making things a bright red color.

leaving was like standing up through a sunroof at full speed, so breath-taking that you don't realize how easy it is to slip until you lift your hands high.

(j.a.r.)

I've been looking for a driver who's qualified
So if you think that you're the one step into my ride
I'm a fine-tuned supersonic speed machine
With a sunroof top and a gangster lean

So if you feel me let me know, know, know
Come on now what you waiting for, for, for
My engine's ready to explode, explode, explode
So start me up and watch me go, go, go, go

Got you where you wanna go if you know what i mean
Got a ride that smoother than a limosine
Can you handle the curves? Can you run all the lights?
If you can baby boy then we can go all night

Cos I'm 0 to 60 in three point five
Baby you got the keys-

Now shut up and drive

Engine died
The car is in the shop
It's been a week, still not fixed -
cannot afford a payment, so have to wait

Meantime, driving my brother's twenty-two year old antique -
a collectible - Nissan Sentra

Over forty miles an hour it starts to shake
and grumble under the strain,
so we go according to how it feels on
a given day

It's like driving a stick shift -
deep concentration, manual thrusts.
Hope no rain; sunroof leaks -
have to wear my rain gear

So quiet, yet so LOUD -
no radio ...
The sounds of the moving machine
keeps me wide awake, alert.
I can hear it squeak and groan.
Feel every pebble and crack on the pavement

No complaints - it's reliable, durable
Takes me where I need to go

Built of real steel -
very old - reliable

uh my clan be ***** as the Taliban
with illegal contraband
got more heat than desert stand
one man stand on the mic
i rock im as hard as a ****
in between a ***** legs
gettin' ready to knock
ya out with flows i expose
the industry closed
once yosef pours
out the blessin got me foes guessin no stressin
**** and henney sessions
new lessons
daily sip irish creme baily
they cant play me but pay me
listen to styles p or bump biggie
or maybe 2 p a c
host aks at birthdays
im al caponin' it runnin' ****
like diarrhea
yall just need ta
sit the **** back while i count benjamins stacks
which be
in bundle king of the hip hop jungle
and im
going to **** puffie diddy
He soft as a nestle cookie
Make mysteries
no rookies
cant play with me in this deadly game
lite a match for the flame
burn the fame
infamous is how i keep it man
hol up


I see the hate excite of the critics
Gimmicks leave with they headsplitted
And backs more open than parachute
From the guns that shoot 21 salute
Dont ya know im soldier
I keep glocks hot as folgers
In ya cup i interrupt the scene
Once i puff red hair greens
Ya drivin a limousine
N ill throw grenade in ya sunroof
And watch it land inbetween
Ya legs
So ya can blow ya own head
Get it naw forget
All i see is yellow tapes chalks
And you being admitted
To the hospital in critical
Condition no intermission
All ya memory left is ya see is my face
Im like the son of man
Leavin competition running
Marathons cuz im the biggest don
They call me the Holy one
Cuz of the way my guns
Put holes in one
The rawest spit flawless
Talk **** we'll leave ya jawless
Throw ya remains in the death valley
With the rest of the restless carcass
Facing eternal darkness what???

I wish I could knit you a blanket
Of all the words you deserve to hear
The words that should never enter your ears would roll off like rain on a rooftop.

Unfortunately your kindness is so pervasive that you’ve left your sunroof open.

I wish I could knit you a blanket
Of all the warmth you deserve to retain
The cold of the outside world would melt away like ice in the sunshine.

Unfortunately your heart is so forgiving that you forgot to turn down the A/C.

I wish I could knit you a blanket
Of all the happiness you deserve to receive
The cruelty of others would dissipate like breath in a mirror.

Unfortunately your mind is so compassionate that you have forgotten to take care of yourself.

I wish I could do for you what you do for so many. You take away the sting of harsh words, you weather the cold so that we may not have to, you face the cruelty so the cruel can feel comforted.

Your heart is gold, and I cannot knit you a blanket.

But perhaps we can share the warmth of a quilt just a little too big, and someday you can tell the sky the words you wish you hadn’t heard and let the trees drink in the cold air and give you back happiness, and sunshine, and a world just as it should be.

Until then, I’ll be waiting, with ears for listening and hands for warming and a heart for smiling.

With a quilt just a little too big for one.