slake

I felt you in
That quick sigh
in the steering wheel’s
slight whine
in the desert’s dark
wind envelope

crisp/silently
at 120 mph
I felt the slight
tension in your
frame release
as if you were there

as if you were on me

those lips far
away and still
a mysterious land
terra unconfirma
sending a sirocco of
incongruity
blessed and cursed

travel makes me
thirsty
for that which
is the most
idealized
a postage stamp
with the sweetest
adhesive

the lines on the road
sing to me a sonnet
of pristine desire
a morse code that
still tacks out your
whispered promise

I always will

tawmnation