spinning wheels with repetitive white lines passing underneath
black asphalt holding onto lines in lighter shades of gray
smelling the fresh cut grass mix with stale cigarette smoke and the unnatural scent of a foot shaped air freshener
love rides in a steel chassis with roaring cylinders
the light beats down through glass stained with spent life of a million insects
the pop music on the radio doesn't bother me because I feel to good to let it
the shadows get longer and everything shifts and swirls
it always seems as if you will likely end up right where you began
love is a particle accelerator
smashing bits together just to see what flies out
hoping you can uncover whats beneath what you always thought was the bottom
creating everything you hoped existed and hoped wouldn't get out of control
the sweat beads
down my temple where the veins that pump from my heart to my brain bulge below the surface
the wild dogs have all been trained
there is nothing else to bite us but ourselves
so you clench your teeth, waiting for a lure to bite
you stumble, never looking down, your face is the face of a monster
leaves fall and the still of summer is replaces with the still of loss
love is a cool November morning
when the meals are hearty and you sing with your soul
the sweaters we wear are full of so many memories
like that tee shirt I wore when you threw me in the road
I still wear it, hard to believe that was seven years ago
worn out shoes reflect our worn out faces reflecting worn out life
I can't bitch anymore, I have no right
my stomach does it all for me anyway
as I pour the drinks, as I try and fade away a little more than I have already
love is a snowball in between rocket attacks
when we try to hold onto a little piece of ourselves we left behind
somewhere on the asphalt, in the malls, and with our friends
the mountains look so beautiful, your eyes caress them cautiously
looking not merely in admiration, but in self preservation
I can see my breath, what I would give to see yours again
love is a home
a home can be so much for some, and so little to others
it's not a space between walls and a roof
it's the warmth in your chest, the dance in your step
the smile you can't give up even though your trying not to be sentimental
it's the tear, when there is someone there who knows you, and is ready to wipe it
it's not a good job, or a nice car, it's not a mortgage, or a child
it's not wondering, it's knowing
it's all I have ever known
never more than on a hill in a dead car in the cold
with the stars as our light
our future in the path of snow
