under the overhang

i took a breath deep as sunday,
exhaled all that thinking,
words that spilled into the empty space of a vehicle,
moving its way slowly down the side streets we know well,
me,
i know 'em too well,
been sitting in first gear bumbling like an engine sputter,
i drink the new oil for my crankshaft,
building up like the motor of moses,
with a big devil fight,
but my drive don't wheel so smooth,
a wish list of new parts,
a to do list of fix it yourself,
but i still don't own the blueprints,
still out reading the books that tell me to run outta here,
but i do my sprinting in the middle of your night cycle,
so by the time you wake up,
i might already be in the smoke screen of tomorrow's fog