Little Mustache, and all those braids,
Hours in the chair, my ex used to tell me,
Hours in the chair in the heart of Saturday
And she would come out smelling of coco butter
And that tattoo down the length of her thigh…
But back to you, sir at 90 miles an hour,
What little time we have together,
You and I and what did I do, took it out on you?
The speed of the road,
Where the lake meets the river,
The trees and the vines and I hit the highway entrance,
The road sparks showers under your tires.
What lives in that mind,
With the cries from the back seat,
The ritual chant of “daddy, daddy, daddy”
The body just grips wheel and goes solo.
And when the clouds set, and fingers lowered
And we both follow the words that build our lives
Our bones follow the same words, read the same books
Written on same skin and do we break form our car trip knowing that?