Melted On the Interstate

a haze hangs on these lips like me

fast to glass with silver tongue

melted on the interstate

who knew brass could laugh at me?

so that's why I never return

the screeching fork that cut the plate

to a home that smells like gasoline

the taste hangs on these lips like me

and fills the hall up to the chin

with bacon grease and magazines

husks the flowers from the walls

melted on the interstate

who knew brass could laugh at me?

fast to glass with silver tongue

a haze hangs on these lips like me

the screeching fork that keeps me young

Reviews

[rnuff]

I totally am amazed by this write, this is wonderful.
Loved the last stanza the best, kind of snickered at it though.
So cleverly worded. Love this.