We whiz in between the cars,
your hand pressing the accelerator
my arms 'round your chest.
Upright in red, against black leather seat,
head thrown back in delight,
we press the outer limits
of time and space
of earth and sky
spirit and form.
Perhaps life is but the milloscopic segments of an already written path
littered with ambling walks to nowhere, while miracles lurk below your feet.
Staring across a wooden fence, you look out and wonder "why?"
"Why?!"
It just is. Perhaps, it just is.
No rhyme or reason,
no specter nor sport,
only this, now ~
jaw agape, deep guffaws ringing through her helmet,
wind whipping her words away.
"Soy aqui," he cries.
"Soy aqui."
I am here, she laughs.
And, together, we are there.
