How many hands have touched you on the inside?
Places I can never seem to see.
And if I could, would I believe
the immeasurable complexity?
I’d never understand
what makes you burn
my beautiful machine.
I only hope to keep you clean,
not even safe for such a thing
is far beyond even me.

My only care is to keep
you shining back at me
when I scrutinize your blackest depths.

You take me all the places that I need to be.
You feel like home, and the open road in one
the scent of you, the feel of you under me.
I am enveloped.

I am inside.

They built you from a hollow shell,
that shape I know so well,
but now you’re filled,

The price I pay for you, my dear…
four years.
Four years, and I will still be here.

06/01/2003

Author's Note:
FRE 449
Just DRIVE!

Posted on 06/01/2003
Copyright © 2025 Lacy D Phillips