driving the PCH in the middle of the night
pitch black
the mountains block all traces of light pollution
starlight dazzling
riding with the moon roof open, listening to the surf
crashing in some spots
muted in others
the car awash in pine with a hint of sea
i pull over three times to stare into ebon eternity
listening to the quiet trees
something steps on a stick and im not alone
i tell the forest i have a midnight meeting with a mr sasquatch
hes running late. replies the rustling wind
thats ok, i dont mind waiting
its chilly up here halfway up a mountain
75 miles form civilization
i get in the car snd drive the winding road
the mighty pacific coast highway
darling of the automobile advertisers of america
i push the rental car a little and jam some zepplin on the dark highway
in and out, up and down the raggedy coastline
in a bluelit startrek cockpit im bellowing the lyrics
VALHALLA
I AM COMINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG
i skid thru a sharper than expected turn, lightly grazing the guardrail with my rear light
my herat hammers as i put the flashers on and inspect the skidmarks and notice that this part of the road is above the treetops on the mountain below
i hit that turn a little faster and im in a tree
starving to death slowly
the zepplin song is meant to play on the soundtrack when I fee fall towards the rocks and surf below
front end slowly aimling straight down as the motor drags me to meet my valkyrie soulmate
but my timing is off
im not neanderthal james dean
ive got redwoods to sleep under and bigfeet to meet
after days and days of kamikaze 85 MPH california freeway driving i make my snails way up and down the PCH for 6 hours
seeing four or five cars every fifteen minutes
pitch black
the mountains block all traces of light pollution
starlight dazzling
riding with the moon roof open, listening to the surf
crashing in some spots
muted in others
the car awash in pine with a hint of sea
i pull over three times to stare into ebon eternity
listening to the quiet trees
something steps on a stick and im not alone
i tell the forest i have a midnight meeting with a mr sasquatch
hes running late. replies the rustling wind
thats ok, i dont mind waiting
its chilly up here halfway up a mountain
75 miles form civilization
i get in the car snd drive the winding road
the mighty pacific coast highway
darling of the automobile advertisers of america
i push the rental car a little and jam some zepplin on the dark highway
in and out, up and down the raggedy coastline
in a bluelit startrek cockpit im bellowing the lyrics
VALHALLA
I AM COMINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG
i skid thru a sharper than expected turn, lightly grazing the guardrail with my rear light
my herat hammers as i put the flashers on and inspect the skidmarks and notice that this part of the road is above the treetops on the mountain below
i hit that turn a little faster and im in a tree
starving to death slowly
the zepplin song is meant to play on the soundtrack when I fee fall towards the rocks and surf below
front end slowly aimling straight down as the motor drags me to meet my valkyrie soulmate
but my timing is off
im not neanderthal james dean
ive got redwoods to sleep under and bigfeet to meet
after days and days of kamikaze 85 MPH california freeway driving i make my snails way up and down the PCH for 6 hours
seeing four or five cars every fifteen minutes
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