Driving Song

Linger for hours
in swelter and sweat.
Minute to minute,
how much can I stand?
I talk to myself nonstop.
Long drives bring
the cheerleader out in me:
Another hundred, fifty,
twenty-five. Ten, five,
rest stop. Stuck to the seat,
find myself

peeled.  Pisscall,
hot dog. Then,
two hundred,
hunnert-seventy-five…

end in sight? Not in sight:
in scent.  Ocean, oil,
bed in the mix. 

Driving’s about 
tension on a rope
pulled from home.
Love that burn
on my hands from the wheel.
Love that cooling off
once I get out.
Love how I long
for it to return
once I stop.