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highway sixty-two.
by Andrew S Adamsflowing northbound
in the backseat, her hand
upon my face, this is safety;
going sixty five down
sixty two on a six minute ride
glance up, and the passing lights
are candles burning and gaze farther,
the stars are the torches and her face
illuminates at the sound of an auto
passing southbound,
until we reach the exit six seconds
sooner than expected
and i am
born again. 01/29/2005 Posted on 01/29/2005
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by JD Clay on 01/30/05 at 11:46 PM This racy poem has a camouflaged sensual quality about it that goes beyond the backseat of a speeding car, Andrew. Good stuf!
Pe4ce... |
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