RT476

on my lap
over yesterday's Times
I pour,
from a silver
magic thermos
bullet container,
tea.

eighty
miles-per-hour
forty
sips-per-minute
photosynthesized &
dried leaves delivering
a fix.

two hours in a
car, the bead seat
cover becomes you,
& I forget where
I am going
if the audio book
is good.

all driving
distances
should be diluted--
a scoop of sugar
& stirred with
crème--a voice
reading to me

old bedtime stories,
a tale of a whale
the highway washing
headlights & redlights
as landfalls
in crystal blue
eyes.