Midnight Run

90 miles an hour on the freeway,
Marina del rey to Hollywood on a
balmy summer night.
All the windows rolled down
I’m flying in my 67 mustang
with baby moon rims.
Cool as fuck.

Gotta get to
Hollywood, pronto.
Flying under the radar,
in the zone, the sweet spot.
I’m lovin being one with
my car,
with the highway,
the universe.
I’m a highway child.

Sudden jolt of reality,
queasy internal panic.
Quick check of the rear view,
Coast is clear.
I exhale and
get glimpse of my face.
Whoa! Scary and wild eyed.
Not good.

Maintain woman,
I think as I check myself.
Slow down highway child.
You’re not a child anymore
slow the fuck down.

Shit, I’m holding,
I recall as if its news to me.
Smack, speed, ecstasy, blow &
2 fifths of vodka. One opened
sitting between my legs
Fuckin hell!
could I be anymore of a bust?

Abrupt anxious paranoia
again I check the
rear view for the man.
The coast is clear.
I take a deep breath,
exhale, and then lean back.

Voice in my head says
you’re all good.
Floor it.
Better than good you’re fine!
Better than fine.
Untouchable.
Gotta get there fast
Fly girl fly

Floor it!
The voice in my head yells,
You’re flying stealth.
Under the radar like
Nighthawk.

You are so money,
I think to myself,
got the reflexes of a cat.
Shoulda been a race car driver.
Speed demon jesus always
looking out for you, sugar
hit it!