Like a weathering Jesus
Stuck to the dashboard
With a cello between her knees
As the beaten up vehicle tears
Down the speedway
To another colour hell
It used to be another story
But now for all intents and
Faced with the utter lack of purpose
She bitches since I levitate
Pretending not to see me
Hovering around the clouds
Suspended on the brink
Of her lament in C minor
Now that I have surmised her secret
She bitches on a speeding mission
Where for better or for worse
She smiles like pending doom
As to throw me the curve
I need to make the final stretch
In the pole position always
Hurdling unfinished obstacles
To the finish she grasps
For a cubic foot of birthrights
So there’s nothing for me to add
Alas she is bitching to the beat.
