Fleeting Highway 126

My face is in his hands, he told me to run with it, Kiss on the move-

Thumbs attract to highway, like love pulls skin on the shoulder. My name

perched on his lips. We peddled until blisters rose like moons on our heels.

Dust and sweat slicked our legs, sun touched our arms.

Long stretches of empty hills, horizon mirrored asphalt-

his body tight and flexed.

For miles, no cars, around dry corners, little conversation.

Silent, I imagined us, back to back in wheat fields that rustled around

around our bodies-

Broken, you found me-captured,

you helped me fly. Through dust and sweat,

surrounded by dry rugged trails-

You became my moon.

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