Joy Ride.

December 18, 2009
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My hands grip the cold metal underneath tight,
so the dry wind doesn’t blow me away.

There is nothing but a burnt red mountain in the background
and an empty creek ahead.
The blue sky above,
and the yellow green straw-like grass below.

I feel free and alone.
The kind of alone that will let you

The motor roars louder.
The truck jerks.
I feel the wind on my face.

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