Slump
Old man watching from a wheelchair
in a church parking lot surrounded
by bronze foliage
November is a month of slow-motion and
quiet drives down residential streets
I drive, and my stomach churns
from gin mixes and a screwdriver
generously tabbed by M.S.
at last night's pagan party (I wore a
kilt but had no bagpipes)
my tires slump along at 30 mph
tumbleweeds with hissing axles and
you couldn't pay a man to
play a decent song on the radio today
fingerprints and static
the toxic sensation of greasy hair
armpit odor permeating my interior
slump slump slump
old man critiquing my existence
the leaves are pure salvation
crunchy shades of lipstick and fruit that
fall together
in a natural brotherhood guided
by breezily impatient time
time awarded me another hour
to squander and wonder
why the old man tames the leaves
what a lukewarm shower will feel like
trickling down my back
A: Comparing a car to a tumbleweed = perfect. Aimless autumn afternoon driving ftw.
ReplyDeleteB: "Crunchy shades of lipstick and fruit" might just be my favorite line. Terribly evocative, strangely sensual.
C: I just really like it all.
I like your intellectual feedback, your penchant for purple, and you.
ReplyDelete