the trees along the highway
red flames lick
against furrowed clouds.
hold our breath as
we pry each other for
moments of connection.
we get it wrong.
There seems to be a universe
wedged between our front seats,
some plane we keep slipping off,
then scrambling back on to.
A place where
the nights turn into mornings
turn into days:
the ones racing
under us along
all red-flamed foliage
and slowly sweetening skies.
a sailor’s warning.
About the Creator
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
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