Leona

 

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Let’s take a car, I feel a drive coming on. We’ll leave tonight,

I don’t know where I’m going, but they always told me I won’t get far;

to be safe we’ll take the dodgy roads and find it twice as fast.

Get in the car.

There’s no time, it’s all at once. All thrown at us in glittering dust.

Pack a lunch. Take bunch of diazepam and relax. Please, dump the cat.

We leave tonight, there is no space nor time. I have a suicide pact with life,

so we’ll skip the lights; colours are just colours on this drive.

 

You read my mind. I wanted you in the passenger side.

Feels good behind the wheel. Just you; and me, steering this speeding vehicle;

travelling our own reel of film that unwinds with the roads and ends with a blink.

No time to think, we could die in an instant, in all these instances,

Good thing I’m running on instinct.

Hold my leg lose, as lose as your grip on reality. The space to move

is what appealed; shall we have a Spanish tragedy?

 

Let’s dim the headlights a bit, increase our chances with the stars.

We’ll go to a small village, further south, called íllar. Where the men grow tomatoes and

the women sit outside,

where a woman once lay dying and mouthed “hablar, hablar, hablar,”

to the hot sun, to the stray dogs, to the open windows, to the infinite cicadas.

Her conversation with the earth.

But of her they’d say “She doesn’t want it bad enough.” She won’t get too far.

And of them all she heard, was “bla, bla, bla.” Sayonara sweet Leona.

 

Forget her. Here’s the Big Shake Down, that turning on the left.

I hope you brought your guns, I can see you wore your best. Take a sip,

it helps to be under the influence if you’re going to rob a bank.

Now, that would change our status: ‘Wanted’ at last.

Making it big out on the run, just imagine. We’ll probably be famous.

I wonder what they’d name us; you, me, and this speeding vehicle.

What did we want so bad?

 

Do we want it enough to crash? Then we’re agreed.

I’ll turn it too fast, hit a wall like Cameron Diaz

in that blue Buick Skylark.

That’ll make the page, we died just for laugh.

As it all turns out and round and round, I didn’t want nothing at all, all along.

She got further than you think, the lady who lay dying;

all the way to Cassiopeia, leaving only necklaces

 

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