Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I saw a blistered hardtop;
ashtray full of 1971 bourbon residue,
eight-track slot to stash pinon and weed,
and leaded fuel and wide track rubber,
and eight fine pistons, charred and defiant,
still ready to go after all this time,
and rebuilt seams ready to burst
into blue puffs.

I had vistas to kill,
and 440 cubic inches were never wrong,
not when the road will give up its ghosts
and indecipherable ridges still waver.

storm rollin' in on the waves,
on backward greasewood curls,
on ectoplasmic lightning sheets,
and i'm terrified of my beloved wide open,
'tho it might be a mere power blink in reno.

very nice mnaz.

and i'm terrified of my beloved wide open,

ya, those beloved wide opens will tend to do that to you.

thanks for the read.