Getting There

Miles pass quickly.
Flickering lights
Approach
Meet
Behind.
I seek escape
From too many one sided
conversations.
The radio is mute
I have enough songs in my head.
Bits and pieces escape my lips.
Wind in my hair.
I sigh and it is captured
by the wind and tossed aside.

I stay within the limit
Cautious even in my brief escape.
When did the wild girl
Become the cautious woman?

night-driving[1]

 

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