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 Wipers On by Jarvis Black
sat in the car in the dark of the garage white knuckling the steering wheel, keys dangling from the ignition, Face black and blue bloodied and swelling from the ham fisted stories of all your ex-lovers there was somewhere worth driving but i couldn't think of where, exactly with my foot threatening the accelerator, there's a moment of clear recognition that the speedometer reaches 110 then red lines and i'll need light speed and more to escape the likes of you. by Jarvis Black © (jarvisblack@aol.com) jarvis black dot com |
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