dark highway, all night ride

Somewhere between the

tundra and the

sea, I realize I

am speeding,

driven on

by cold-tingled

fingers and a warm

breeze. Radio's

on

boy from San

Fran wants to

take his

tongue to the

southern

tip of

her body

so we still have

'nt talked much,

still lingering on a

few depths' worth

of touch preter

naturally verbose.

I can run six miles

now without

thinking, feeling the

push-off of toe to

now-bare

sidewalk like a deep

breath but today

I thought

at least six miles

worth, wind

through my shirt

like windows

down, speeding at

night when

the sea is near and

policemen sleeping

over glasses of

wine

don't want you to

drive drunk, no, just

intoxicated as

long as you

still get

home.

CVP