At the end of the road when I should be in the middle

my life now is wheels spinning,

roads coursing beneath me,

like I’m dreaming, flying in streetlight brilliant stoplight dark autumn streets Route 66 garage lawn dream life explosion firework sticky handed rushing wind pickup truck Heaven…

the problem is I live at the end of the Route and my feet are hungering to be dusty with the road again,

I’m not scared to be alone again in intense black LA lonely night,

instead my atmosphere is tranquilized

like nighttime breeze and blue moon silhuouettes

all the pain boiled in the past is steam to me now and glides off my skin as quickly as I can run around this city and I am fearful no longer, shadows shrink and

love grows.

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