last prayer for the cruisers

bread on the strange soft light
of haunted strip malls
baptised in the mirk of convenience store coffees
we marveled stumbling at the pagan mess
that asphalt interlaced on the earth
and made love to it
we were cruisers
with giant eyes at night
and worn jeans
with radio rosaries
hungry and fast
and hunched from so heavy headlight halos
zippin and mad with motion

and now in the sunrise
the whole culture of the thing
slowly settles
into age

like the consecratin mist we split so
unbelievably and mystical for the simple sake
of momentum in the night