What a thrill.

Sharp, fast adrenaline shoots

Like night traffic-

Winding, curving

Around graffiti murals.

Neon filaments threaten

To choke the moth whispers of vital sparks,

The one thing keeping it alive.

There's that jolt, that life

As they jet under ramps,

Through tunnels,

Racing and wishing to taste city-lights.

I love this speed, this freedom,

This joy.

It surrounds me, sliding into my throat

And erupting as love;

Enough to throw my head back,

And let it out as a whoop and holler,

Tasting night stars, fire.

The lights blur and bounce,

Escaping kaleidoscope feelings as

Wind escapes from air.

That million-dollar quartet of

Darkness, lies, laughter, and rain on Second Street

Shall play on with gushing swells of pure noise

While life trickles by,

As dust becomes bullets,

When you feel relief and ecstasy trapping your phantasm.

When your only fear is that you will crash,

Smoldering on the sidelines,

Your only choice is between speeding up

To taste life—

Or slow down, let go,

Give up—die.