You see it on the highway, you can hear it in the air; It’s racist and its nasty and talks of being fair.
Fueled by being happy and seeking ethereal bliss. It’s a mile or 2 from passion… a fair distance from a kiss.
It’s loud and its messy and just short of on the brink, It’s stretched out on a yoga mat, and seems desperate for a drink.
She’s certain of the enemy and its family and its kin. With emphasis now familiar, do not dare look within.
The hope is there, for something, more gentle and sincere, It’s in a distant mirror from a dream that’s not so clear.