from the driver's seat: daydream

i.,

with you in the passenger seat
the city is a long tunnel without lanes

i run red lights
fingering your palm

licking your smile
one hand on the wheel

with you in the passenger seat
the city is a smoking gun

we're shot from

targeting the shadow lights
of a city we've never been to

i run stop signs
to deliver us from sirens

and the ocassional passer-by
envious of me licking your smile

clean of foreground,
revealing tongue;

left turn,
horizon.