winding serpentine like
down the Highway
4 am,
watching the trepidatious peak
of sunrise,
i feel so alive,
fresh rains from
the spring night
underneath my tires,
n my body is a carriage
in n of itself,
passing
out of
white n yellow lines,
i am not here i am out of time,
speeding around bends n corners,
no thoughts save freedom,
a cigarette n, my hand
n a smile on my lips.
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