Driving through Boulder at night
leaned against the cab of a pickup
leaned back to see the stars
streetlights hurt the eyes
at predictable intervals, on alternating sides
when you're lucky you can just make out orion
three staight stars in the western sky
constellations never really meant alot to me
occasoinal car star gazing always was enough for me
taste the nicotine across the gums
catch the moon on a long left turn
holding the side to keep from sliding
imagining every poetic thing that it could be
not bothering whether it's clever or cliche'
I'm partial to simpler things
I'm thinking it's a lampost through the tree's
