orgami's Diaryland Diary

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highway audit

wind rocks the auto
parked in the middle
of the flatlands
of beaver meadows

tall sweet-grass grows
right along the shoulder
crept in the years
since the miles of by-pass
to the old blue asphalt

nothing is coming
just the wind
sucking voices at
all the loose old
rubber seals
whispering in her
nights seduction
as I slump in the
seat
my fingers still
holding the big
plastic wheel
my thumb on the
chrome horn-ring

Im alone
and wildly alive
electricity like
radio waves flows
from my eyes

a dull flash to the left
over the far great bay
of lake speaks of
the storm forecast

the exhaust clicks
between winds-breaths

A car far to the north
is approaching
its beams feeling out the
night

I turn the steel key in
the dashboard ignition
switch and the motor purrs
to life

I pull the headlamp
knob and punch my left
cowboy boot on the
dimmer switch

Pull on the shifter
and she clunks into gear
the accelarator feels
slick and good

we sway to the backbone
of another time
of rounded stratospheric
dreams
and A.M. radio

the lightening is closing
in on the green lit odometer
miles.....

10:18 p.m. - 2008-06-27

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