Poetry · Writing

midnight cruise

i am always running

on the treadmill, sitting down, eating breakfast;

the motor never quits, never an oil change or fluid change

check engine light has been removed

and a brick on the gas pedal-

the empty light came on a friday night

a shovel to the brick

a hammer

a pickup truck

but your delicate hands

with ease

found comfort under yellow umbrellas

your hand found mine and not on a steering wheel

stealing nothing instead given

given a chance to have free hands

free from the wheel free from those haunted nights

nights are easier and the darkness drives the other way

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