ride with me tonight.
over the Santa Monica Mountains
to see the shackled wonder of the stars of the valley below.
snow on a field of fire.
the wind at 85 miles an hour feels good
and the hood of a car is a good place 
for slipping into more than the air.
Mulholland calls with a peculiar 
voice like a disk jockey on methamphetamine.
taking it up a notch.
just like you do with that skirt
when you flirt...
like you had to.
and you know you don't.
but it's nice you still care enough
to wear the black suede.


copyright William F. DeVault (wfdv)