By B.K.
Date: 2011 Jun 13
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Racing the Storm

It's a double line
Two lane blacktop
With a race against time
Winner takes the title
For a blue fine tip
And a sip of tranquility
We know the atmosphere
Heat brushing skin
As the air rushes in
The lightning surges

A high pressure builds

A rush of senses
A squall line with whirlwinds
Riding rough shod across the sky
While the fusion of bodies slowly bend
With the powerful rising currents
Between quicksilver storm chasers
Baby it has always been you and I