I wonder how many gets us from here to there
the little white lines that scour the highway
a pale face in passing headlights – wide eyes
chain smoking cigarette, butts flicked out
into the night sky the stars go, climbing
follow this pavement trail – one love
to the next, until the next town and a new dress-
ed up in the finest suit – though, I know my
china white will never be as pristine –
I'll keep trying, pulling levers on slot machines
smiling between cigarette drags,
another stop along the freeway, bathroom
stained wall graffiti, filling up the gas tank
sad eyed cashier trapped behind the register
what's new in the thrift store – the latest news
licking lips and closing car door
cigarette smoke still trailing from fingertips
then pallid lips – smile, that shape near perfect
rounded face and dimpled cheeks
never showing as we flick off the lights
in motel rooms, cheap tawdry, off the interstate –
on the interstate – more lines to pick us up in the morning
for a near six more hours between gas stations,
road locomotives and the blue sky spanning
more miles as you switch the disc
uptempo running around car doors as the wind
whistles through window
carry smoke far into the night – you smile
another passing headlight lets me know it
you blush, content –
and the white lines continue