Land and Sea

There is enough, there is enough.
There's enough beat to eat up the road.
To let the wheels spin again and again and again around and around the sound of the wheels in a constant ripping of the road a single constant pound of rubber on bitumen.
The scrub we pass on this hot stretch is melting into a single grey, window high blur on the sideway. I hear the cruel rasp of the engine in the heat, feel the hot wind through the vents. It's dog with his head out the window, snout to the wind, weather. And the music is blues and country and the state of being is dry. Dry and slow is all you can be, dry and slow; unless you are powered by gasoline, when you are hot and fast.

The sea. Ahh, she cradles me.. i float.
I am an earthly floating being.
I belong.
I am swallowed.
I am whole, taken in, in the water.
I am a lightened being in the ocean.