Solid white line
down lone strip of asphault
hurtling through barren dessert.
We are traveling to fast.
I tried to warn her.
Traveling at a more economical speed would conserve fuel
but my worries
were lost to the wind
as her auburn her floated behind her.
Smiling as if the universe were her keeper.
I snuck a gallon of water into the trunk.
I now wish it had been fuel.
If she had seen me
she would have sighed
“You worry to much
Go with the flow and,
let the universe be your guide.”
and I would roll my eyes at the cliche
and surrender, wondering how many like her
drive pink cadillacs
believing the wings could make them fly
I wish we would slow down.