PCH 1

The automobile
was invented
for you.

draped over blue green waters
that beckon, no beg
for you to lose your concentration
just for a moment.

the car created
for the purpose of traversing
your curves,

walking your creases like
fingers tracing cotton hems and satin blouses
tires scratching your back like fingernails
left rough for this very occasion

Weaving through the top of your curly locked
branches at McKerricker,
following the follicles as they trail down past
your shoulders and below at Muir,

taking a step away from the edge
to run down the small of your back
between your shoulder blades in
San Francisco,

then rejoining the festivities
south of your bra straps in
Monterrey

before slipping around the front
to the heights and valleys
of Big Sur and lingering around
your thighs at
Cambria, where road and sea are
separated by

sand and opportunity.

If I could, I would drive you forever,
spending my time doing nothing but
retracing your sunny curves
with my fingertips
cradling the wheel,

spending money only on
burgers at Nepenthe,

chocolate cake at the Bait Shack,

and gas.