( Poe and Mark Danielewski )
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Mark:
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Kyrie suggested we go for a drive in her new 2-door BMW coupe
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In the parking lot, we slipped into her bucket seats
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Kyrie took over from there.
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At nearly 90 miles per hour she zipped us up to that windy edge
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Known to some as Mullholland, that sinuous road running the ridge of the Santa Monica Mountains
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Where she then proceeded to pump her vehicle in and out of turns
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Sometimes dropping down to 50 miles per hour, only to immediately gun it back up to 90 again
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Fast, slow, fast fast slow
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Sometime a wide turn sometimes a quick one she preferred the tighter ones
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The sharp controlled jerks, swinging left to right before driving back to the right
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Only so she could do it all over again until after enough speed, and
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enough wind, and more distance than I had been prepared to expect
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Taking me to parts of the city I rarely think of and never visit...
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Poe:
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Hey pretty
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Don't you wanna take a ride with me?
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Through my world
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Hey pretty
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Don't you wanna kick and slide
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Through my world
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Mark:
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I can't remember the inane things I started babbling about then, I know it didn't really matter, she wasn't listening
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She just yanked up on the emergency brake, dropped her seat back, and told me to lie on top of her
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On top of those leather pants of hers, extremely expensive leather pants
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mind you, her hands immediately guiding mine over those soft, slightly oily folds
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Positioning my fingers on the shiny metal tab, small and round, like a tear
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Then murmuring a murmur so inaudible that even though I could feel her
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lips tremble against my ear, she seemed far, far away
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Pinch it, she said, which I did, lightly, until she also said pull it,
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which I also did, gently parting the teeth, one at a time, down under
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and beneath, the longest unzipping of my life...
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Poe:
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Hey pretty
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Don't you wanna take a ride with me?
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Through my world
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Hey pretty
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Don't you wanna kick and slide
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Through my world
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Hey pretty
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My pretty baby
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Rock it through my world (through my world)
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Hey pretty (Hey pretty)
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My pretty baby
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Rock it through my world (my world)
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Mark:
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We never even kissed, or looked into each other's eyes, our lips just
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Trespassed on those inner labyrinths hidden deep within our ears,
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Filled them with the private music of wicked words
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Hers in many languages, mine in the off-color of my only tongue, until
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as our tones shifted and our consonants spun and squealed, rabbled faster, hesitated, raced harder
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Syllables soon melting into groans or moans, finding purchase in new words, or old words, or made-up words
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Until we gathered up our heat and refused to release it, enjoying too
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much the dark lane which we had suddenly stumbled upon
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Prayed to, carved to, not a communication really, but a channeling of
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our rumored desires, hers for all I know gone to black forests and
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wolves, mine banging back to the familiar form, that great revenant mystery I still could only hear the shape of
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Which in spite of our separate lusts and individual prize, still
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continued to drive us deeper into stranger tones, our mutual desire to keep gripping the burn
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Fueled by sound, hers screeching, mine...I didn't hear mine, only hers, probably counter-pointing mine
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A high pitched cry, then a whisper dropping unexpectedly, to practically
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a bark, a grunt, whatever, no sense anymore, and suddenly no more curves either, just the straightaway
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Too bad dark languages rarely survive..."
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Das nicht zu Hause sein x2 ( = there is no house in german )
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Ba da da da (da x 8 echoes
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Hey Pretty (Drive-By 2001 Mix)
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Poe |