Perpetual Motion

Drinking Bukowski and

reading in red wine, riding

in your passenger seat, watching

my thoughts drift away and disappear

with clouds of smoke out

the open windows.  They

leave behind nothing but the way their

smell permeates the air.

You tell me you love me in a voice reserved

for between the sheets and I

sift through sand in the vast desert of

my imagination for words grand and

eloquent enough to paint the landscape with how

I love you, too.

Spinning tires and rushing wind are

the background noise in between your songs

that get stuck in my head.

Interstate signs and mile markers invade

my vision and blur as we pass until you are

all that I clearly see.

We are perpetual motion and that is

the most beautiful form of poetry.

Reviews

[Ben Noah Suri]

A great write... Truly different from what we find here... Lovely finish with Perpetual motion as the most beautiful form of poetry...

[wordman]

this was exiciting,a great write

[BlueZan]

Thanks so much!

[wordman]

you`re welcome

[The Archangel Gabriel]

A wonderful write. I liked that fast-paced action that I read into this piece. Please keep up the good work!

[BlueZan]

Thank you!

[cloud]

Nicely done with great images and keywords. Reminded me a tad of a Stephen King novel. Like it.

[BlueZan]

Thank you very much! That's a very generous review, I really appreciate it.

[willweb]

Another great poem. I liked this one a lot.