talking to myself, is it a dream
so
you stood there waiting with me
as
the cars sharp-gutter-careened
their
insulated coffin toes
stubbing
fornications of disregard
like
that bastard’s life
in
a comic book serial
with
scratch-n-sniff color highlights
you
are reading, Edward
never
once looking up
at
the sky or a tree
or
the shit storm coming
to
get everybody
welcome
to apocalypse falls
I
say and I pay my fare
and
get on board this bus
to
nowhere good hope lives
while
you turn page after page
with
your nose dug in so far to salt
in
the blood of that book
that
you might as well have
crystal
skin and a long memory
capable
of holding electricity
when
rubbed the wrong way
cracking
seams into this destiny
I
pull you onto the bus
and
pay your fare and
you
mumble a thanks and
keep
reading into something
that
would be better off painting walls
instead
of shallow minds
as
the bus lurches forward through
its
innumerable stops along the way
to
where we might be going
on
a pull string
on
a puppet jaw
on
a guffaw with armies
of
empty salvation-ists and
their
material hymnals
in
plastic grocery bags
all
climbing aboard and
giving
us the same look
that
says don’t burn holes
into
me
I
don’t want
to
be here either
and
soon I realize
no
one’s getting off this bus
until
its end destination and
there
so many of us now
that
I stand and hang from a strap
after
giving up my seat and
watching
you stay oblivious
to
your surroundings
the
acrid smells and cover all perfumes
begin
to swell in the diesel fumes and
squealed
brake sounds
as
we are all bleeding rust and
the
factories up ahead
in
the distance
with
their stacks a-glow
are
not waiting to feed us jobs
they
are waiting for us
to
feed them ourselves
as
I finally see
this
is the bus
with
no numbered lines
just
a purity of apathy
in
humanity like rain
finding
its lowest point and
pooling
and I understand why
you
keep your head
in
that book
because
its garish pornography
is
better than any of my holy pain
that you might hook
to wings to fly
home again
EJR
©
I liked this a lot. Thanks Edward.
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome Kat...really appreciate that you read what I paint...means a lot...gratitude...Edward
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