185

She flows me into darkness
One head-no two headlights ahead
but they face away
sprinting their burnt gasoline water sprite song
the tailpipe chugging merrily at my
impotent inability to catch her.

Smelty stone ground leads to a hyper fake chase of dreamstuff.
Like a, like a hell, I don't know. Like a setting sun day on a Sunday that you almost wished you'd died on, because it's just that perfect.

Somewhere a boy cries for the road. He doesn't have her like you do.

You are/were/could be that boy-child, regardless of gender.

All people walkdrive down the seductive line that is route 185.