tres rosas on fall mountain

three birthday roses survived the tres dias
we drove to chapel hill.
or thru it, snapping pix of million
dollah homes and the best labs
money can buy. mornings
you can walk to the co op in carboro
live bluegrass under the burning elms
serenading the stroll. i didn't get to taste
the vegan chocolate cake
but the coffee was rich, strong, zippy.

we get to the mountains in the middle of the afternoon.
you can't drive the hundred and nineteen miles to asheville
in two hours. in two hours you find yourself
at linville falls, driving a honda civic fastback
up the side of the mountain on a gravel road
designed for trucks full of hunters with orange hats.
thinking briefly of broken axles and banjos
but no one gets hurt. the upper falls, though small
are impressive anyway, tearing a hole in the middle
of the mountain, twisting the rock into mock
humans, sculptures that signify how
 we dash into each other
headlong,  gravity an orgasm to chase

in asheville,  cherry djarums
are as hard to find as downtown parking
we careen the hiway thru  the village in the mountains
clinging to the seat as it grows dark
i know  some curve  is going to pull
me over the side of those cliffs
 and make me cum at last