The groves on the pavement on the side of I-90 whisper my name
Just accelerate around the tight turn of an on-ramp
Stepping on gas and leaning into the pull of your own body
Want to go forward, want to turn, desires pushing you, pulling you
What is gravity but all the built-up sexual tension of the universe?
Faster, against the odds
More, against all forces moving towards entropy
My orgasm is an act of defiance against the eventual heat death of the universe
When I drive into the sunset the world stops turning, just for me.
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