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Highway 100

I love her eyes.

Those high beams look at me

A highway star, hypnotize

My black and chrome bumblebee.

I love the gaze;

Highlight white beams set me free.

Never cease to amaze,

The black and chrome bumblebee.

Whether it’s a Civic

Or a 458

Friday night at sunset:

Pull up, not a minute late!

‘Stallis Summer nights

Blacktop drag strip

Frozen custard club frenzy

A Krispy Kreme craze,

And a dream of destiny.

From Greenfield to Layton:

A symphony of sound,

Run after rampant run.

Contagious cacophony,

The pulse never goes numb.

High off potent vibrancy

Ethanol is my girls LSD.

She’s a fighter and a boxer,

But ain’t no Legacy

If she falls asleep, take her out

Make her a back-seater

In-line four, no need to shout,

He wears a white wife beater

They come from Lake Country or the 53146

Every zip code to get a whiff of gasoline fix.

Long and Tall Sally, Slim Jim and his slick-backed chicks

Mister Roboto and electric cigarette sticks

Back for eclectic atmosphere.

Passion on the street, they are two- knee deep

Cold-hearted but they bleed blue antifreeze

Money don’t fold but it sure as hell crease

When you can’t pay back Japanese lease

A show screen-written by Norm Lear

Fumigations fall like the water of Niagara

Wet like Pennzoil, that’s the Autozone Viagra

Send sour city slickers into hysteria

Slammed suspension in my small-town America

Carbon fiber wings at the rear

Rolling coal is the show, keep Lovers Lane clear

MAGA mad-hatters running high off of fear

Blazing orange down the road but ain’t hunting deer

Farm Boys with Daddy’s toys rubberneck and sneer

Adorn profane slang at the rear

Supercar showcase stands strong in silent stride

Ferrari’s his first love, but on his third wife

Appears once a year to stab youth like a knife

Hot shot in the Oscar lot larger than life

By midnight, he will disappear.

As we all do.

Highway is the avenue of our synergy,

Savior of our masculinity,

Cruise over vulnerability,

synchronized in symmetry.

We race across suburban skyline

In grey GTRs

We race at red lights redefining

Rules of the boulevard

The pursuit of unity,

In all six lanes

The fight for feeling free,

The scent of Mary Jane

The pursuit against police;

We feel no shame

Wind blown blonde hair,

Orange and purple flames

Like the living dead,

We haunt those in the way

We keep it one-hundred

For that’s our highway.


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