these are sugar-tinted windows. crystallizing during the night and melting in the sun, onto your tongue. take the car out for a drive 'cause it's lonely, pick up your mood and leave it all behind; you've no time for meddling around.
insecurity makes the wheels go around, and you grab the steering wheel with sweaty palms, accelerating to uneasy speeds, instability, shaking, panicking; it starts to rain. you count the raindrops and i count the days.
red lights are merely pergatorial moments until the next green light. go! what are you waiting for? you're a cautious driver, your car's got energy pent up inside, and you two don't get along.
this is the pivotal moment. you sing your favorite song and your car hums in harmony to your fears. shut up. got some words fitting in place like tetris pieces, carbon monoxide fumes clouding your mind, you're on a high. yeah, that's right.
scenery, blurred along the edges like deja vu, dripping with sweetness of the daytime. you grab the clutch and doubt that you will get there on time, but you've got plenty of that in your back pocket. playing tag with your conscience, you're overanalytical and wonderful at assuming.
(c)2005 mai kozai
silence is also music. {2:55 AM}
the poet
mai sharona.
december 5, 1984.
davis, california.
a sucker for flowers.
