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Destination Non Action




In a cloud of haze and grays
She says one third of her life
Passed her by. She remembers
Scenes of her teen years sick from
Two beers on the curb out back by the cul-de-sac.

In a wide awake repose he knows where to turn,
He feels the tires and the traction.
How much further do you think he can go
Without his foot on the gas, destination non action.

Seated next to her he dreams scenes of
Post-sex cigarettes. He forgets as he drives,
That he's driving her home. Through her memory,
A cloudy maze of detour signs, he finds another
Long cut to talk about whatever to her.

In a wide awake repose he knows where to turn,
He feels the tires and the traction.
How much further do you think he can go
Without his foot on the gas, destination non action.

On a windless sea, a sailboat sits running free.
Line let out and the board's been pulled up.
On land the runway lanes backed up miles
With outboard planes.
Out of gas, piled high with frequent fliers.

In a wide awake repose he knows where to turn,
He feels the tires and the traction.
How much further do you think he can go
Without his foot on the gas, destination non action.







© Mitch Treger