Thoughts whiz
ethereally
among radio waves
competing.
Silent drummers
more hum than hiss
reminding or distracting?
Shackles broken
freedom won
pause, restart,
breathe.
Brake the cycle
to break the cycle
of what?
Teary eyes, powerful connections, bright lights,
colors, wheels, motion.
The kernel of us
cultivated communally
creates destiny.
Her skin feels fresh
and her lips moist
as I clutch her hair.
Red hamburger meat and childish desires
of pistols and flowers
push the sweat from my mind.
If only for a moment.
The Bird's Song 