Some pick Jesus or Moe,
or bathtub gin,
But it's in warm music in a breeze in a car
where escape is.
It's almost alien
how mind cleansing it is.
No paper or job or person
can take away what the rolling
summer scented road through
local pancake house town is for a small joy.
Life is a small joy, so
I'll drive now, until
creeks are all forgotten.
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