Eight cylinders
Andrew Sipos
The mad highway speeds by
I lose myself in the
accelerator
driving, driven, escaping
the greased grooves of my grief
that run slick under my skin
I race by the sirens that scream for my license
to swallow the sweet oil that
trickles out of the corner of my mouth
open throat, open road
I streak by fat red signs and giggle
madly
cutting open the concrete
the eight cylinders of
my existence.
|