Oh Muse,‘tis I, the one that cries
when a butterfly splatters
on the windshield as I drive
out of town to escape
vulnerability.
Your smile, a welcome companion
as the miles escalate along with
this longing burning like gasoline
fueling the heart with desire
as though it’s the driver
just waiting to turn
down your street of dreams
where you impatiently wait
for your fire
to be extinguished, sigh.
Oh muse, ‘tis I
the one who longs to place
in your eyes
a light as bright as
the one you promised to leave on
but I’m a little lost.
Did you say turn left or right?
