so take it, like summer takes the cold, and make it sweet, make it your own. as the red sun burns over m31 and we're driving with the windows rolled all the way down like children who've stolen their parents' car, screaming out joy for life, love, the flying metal frame around us and the speed of the wheels beneath, we offer up hymn of praise to the God who made the cloudless sky and the highway workers who laid the endless asphalt. we're careening drunk off of sunlight, dizzy with the day, light headed for lack of worry. oh who's to stay stop? both feet on the accelerator, emptyness over the brake. the curves, the straightaway, the hill that claims the stomach, a thousand lanes of gleaming metal and waxed paint converging from all sides. music, is there music? it's hard to hear over the blast of air through the windows, but the sound and the rush are notes enough. the roar in the ears of blood and wind, the shudder of the '91 chassis as the speedometer pushes past 100mph. arms out the window, are we taking off?