Night Rider

A Bruce Springsteen poem I wrote a few years back for my friend Alex, who has always been an avid fan of The Boss.

Racin’ between streetlights with Ally Jeanne
She licks her finger when they’re yellow, guns it when they’re green.

There’s some big wheels comin’ just around the bend
where the sidewalk curls and the night never ends.
She flicks her cig and tells me “one more time again.”

Oh, that girl’s the night rider.
Yeah, there’s somethin’ alive in her.
But that girl’s a hider.
Gone like the flash of her lighter.

She’s somethin’ colored fierce but pretty.
Baby, her smile could light up the city.
This town quakes when she rounds its shallow streets.
Her headlights drum to the pavement’s beat;
she flicks her cig and tells me “take a seat.”

Sitting on the passenger’s side next to Alex J.
as we’re gainin’ on the heels of a worn-down Chevrolet.
The guy keeps checkin’ his mirrors, this Chevy fellow.
If he’s lucky, he can get a glimpse of Alexandria’s yellow.
She flicks her cig and tells me, “give your finger to say hello.”

We pull in where the leaves coat the yard.
In the dark, a tear rolls down and she gulps the rest hard.
“I see my life on the streets, through these people, in this car.”
And I’m fightin’ against the sunset so this night never ends.
She flicks her cig and tells me, “one more time again.”

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