March 18, 2017

Barreling through the stormeye 

Wipers doubled in weight

Windowpanes frosting through

And the steady ticking of sleet and fury on the lid of this streetship.


Spears of ice, wind to make the hull shudder,

The narrowing roads, beating taillights, an expanse of dark beyond;


Stillness, a group laughing in the front, headphones snoring in the back.

We follow the makeshift path, just carved by the reckless like us, 

Catching heart with each slip and brake, knowing that one tip of the sword's edge and we tumble into the elements, the vacuum burst out on the roadside. 


-- the perpetuity of tiny havens the world over, metal and glass sanctuaries, oil fed, running lines in ice and fire with breakneck confidence, at every turn defying,

daring to throw the unbuckled into orbit. 


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