Rip and Run
Volume set to max, flow against the tide. Yeah, a tide of oncoming vehicles flashing colours of metal, reflective light glaring into your eyes for milliseconds at a time, the sound of air whipping across quick-moving monsters of steel and chrome, little rubber legs spinning against broken miles of cracked asphalt.
Louder. Faster. Meaner.
The sound goes up, and we go down. She’s wrapping lips around me as I hammer down on the accelerator. I’m going down with her ship, the little man in her boat, as we spin up to the edge of the road, and past it. Over it. Yeah, we’re steering off the road and into the sky, now.
We kiss a cloud as it explodes like bursting glass.