Previous | Next

A World of His Own

On the Radio
Gifted to sing,
A beautiful voice
Takes him by eagle’s wings.

But in truth it’s better
He go there, and
Not to the voice of a harlot’s stare.

It fills the boredom
Burnt out days,
Transported in dulcet fantasy
While gliding on highway lanes.

The tires even bounce
In tune
From dancing hips
And kicking legs.

The veer of the steer
The quick and oft short-stops
Braking to the beat
Impervious to the cops.

From the hum,
A driver rolls up his window,
From jangle, jarring to the ears

While he rides smoothly
On the verge—
Slacking all his fears

Previous | Next