we drive miles away <br />gravel road, interstates fly by, <br />she has a tattoo of a dove <br />on her hip, in flight <br /> <br />there is nowhere to escape <br />to, this road is littered with <br />road kill, a dead dog lies <br />two miles from a dead cat. <br /> <br />death covers death, counts <br />the miles to my own, exit ramp <br />she wants some air that <br />isn't stale <br /> <br />this air is never clean, this <br />sun is never bright enough. <br />everything is trying to escape <br />everything.<br /><br />Ben Paynter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/escape-39/
