"You were buzzing last night.
I could feel you vibrating."
I knew what he was talking about.
The atoms of my body had been thrust,
Through thousands of kilometres,
At a hundred kilometres an hour,
Driving.
The tyres of my car dragged against the bitumen,
Their vibration travelled through my seat,
Into spine and the marrow of each of my bones.
The cochlea of my ears endured the hours of banshee screaming,
Of air scraping against the cars exterior,
As high pitched as a fluorescent light.
Drone, drone, drone,
Ever rhythmic, the motor's base,
Coming into my feet on the floor,
And my hands on the steering wheel.
I had been a human tuning fork.
And now free from vehicular prison,
I rang out.
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