grease black armies
floating on the blue currents  
your swoops and swoons
a patient ballet
the dull dirge
of the road ****
while we listen
expecting to hear
the sound of one hand clapping
and rush to scribe scrolls
of high born truths,
you know no haste
you descend
through the cool currents
kneel over the dead
tell a truer tale
with talons and teeth
until your gnawing silent ceremony
is blasphemed
by
a
careless
careening
car