Would it be a run-on
were I to shift gears mid-sentence
pop the clutch
move seamlessly from first to second
roll the top down
blow back your hair
catch ocean, Seagrams, Apricot body wash
sweet smell of you and stars mingled by
wind, nighttime, destiny,
barreling down a mountain road
nothing but Halogens and hope to guide
a lighthouse blinks on
off
somewhere far past where I
placed my semicolon
stays off longer than expected
I forget to breathe
barely dodge the rocks ahead.