Your presence is tangible,
trailing fingers of persuasion
along my paths of least resistance.
(How do you still know I hate to drive alone?)
There are songs that still scream
squeal of GT tires
along curves so sharp they cut my eyes-
until closing them, even, could not
stop or deny
the tears of desperation and frustration
that hid behind those happy lies.
(I will love you until the day I die.)
Still I would not surrender those
nicotine-fueled dreams at shore,
or the rocks below,
I dashed them on-
parts of them are still wholes of me.
Still I wish that leftover souls
could find some sort of serenity,
pleas for peace,
that your presence might presently
change directions, leave me un-persuaded.
(Let's go for a ride...)
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