Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Sunday drive

Crashing through life at ridiculous speeds, we take no prisoners as the dust flies behind our burnt rubber trail. The radio is screaming guitars and bleeding drums as we speed through hairpin corners. You look at me as I laugh with reckless abandon and obvious pleasure, and wonder out loud how it is that I'm not afraid.

"Fear is just a speed bump in this masochistic life," I reply when you have a lengthy, serious pause. "Now quit being cautious and step on it..." I holler into the atmosphere as my lungs fill with sweet, salty air. You don't disappoint, and the world around us goes flashing by in a barrage of color and wonder. I laugh and laugh again; the tires chirp in spirited agreement as my fingers slide carelessly through your hair.

On a bit of a straight stretch now along the ocean, my hand finds its way, almost of is own volition, into yours. You look at me and our eyes connect on a level few ever find. I smile at you, and you glow just a little. How I adore it when you smile ... I wonder for a selfish moment if it might be me that makes you look this way.

Until someday comes, let's hit the road ... you're like the wind in my hair ... I just can't get enough.

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