Your stare at poppy seed sized people saying farewell while you rule your seatin the power of the fifth gear sinking deep in your senses.
There are red clouds on the horizon, reflections in the setting sun.
Your trip, your sped up present escape to a certain future followed by white lines road signs, that are not important now.
Rushing in physical reality, followed by your heartbeat,a drum beat inside your eardrum.
Poems by Susanna Peremartoni 