How far her spider legs take her,
I can only guess,
she telling me she'd
text me
when she gets there,
wherever there is,
I believe her,
already mesmerized,
hypnotized,
this stuff percolating in my blood,
fogging up my eyes
like a car's windshield in a heavy rain.
I can see only the vague destination
of something pleasant,
yet not in detail to know
if or when or how to
put
on the brakes,
guided only by the dim glow
of her rear
headlights,
red, not bright, full
of hope and yet...
I'm scared,
not quite in control of the car I'm steering,
only desperate to
follow,
we meeting at some bar for a meal –
and a I drink I don't need.
I am already drunk on
her,
waiting for her text to drive me home.
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