Winds from Africa, blow from the East
News of fire spreading nearby me
What's to be done here? What's to be gained?
The gasoline spreads, we soak up the hate
Culminations of what can go wrong
Do all of the dead deserve to be gone?
Does us the living deserve to be here?
Do all our futures deserve to be feared?
More murders makes murder more accepted
All walks of life crash at intersections
Instead of sparing time, letting others pass
We spend our lives road raged, being unmatched
Then we crash in traffic. Gasoline leaks
Sparks from the friction. Death senses who bleeds
You're crawling out your car. Gas line aflames
Tailgating fate and there were other lanes
At any given time
Brushing my teeth with my eyes clothes
Letting your soul leak out onto my skin
"This is crazy," I thought for the first time,
Singing vintage music in your beat-up convertible
I was in a good mood
Maybe it was John Mayer
Or my second Doctor Pepper
Or the cliff to the left of us
You were behind the wheel, and for the first time, I was not afraid of falling
Maybe there was a hurricane
I've never seen one before, I wouldn't know
All I know is that we came out kicking, and dancing
Like you had carried an old record player the whole way
Nothing but your grace keeping it dry
My heartbeat perfectly in tune to your footsteps
My soul, your rhythm
"My hands, your bones"
Your car breaking down on the narrowest stretch of that road,
As it does
Laughing at the sports cars driving too carefully on the pass
Leaning against your scrap heap in the middle of the road
"Totaled?" I asked
"Nah. But I'll sell it to someone who knows how to fix it."
Knowing that axel grease would make a perfect cologne, but you preferred pine
Let me be perfectly clear: we were not in love
Love would be complicated
Splitting hairs and asking about feelings
Your soul would be afraid to touch me, and your soul made me feel vibrant
We were nothing but real
I don't feel lucky
You would have found me if I were invisible
You were looking for a girl in hiking boots with her ball gown
Dancing to the tune caused by flickering stars on and off instead of the orchestra
And I don't know how many of us there really are anymore
Girls who aren't afraid to ruin their clothes and can still use a compass
The tow truck came at the just the wrong time
When you jokingly dipped me over the side of the road, like you were going to let go
But I've already explained- I was not afraid of heights
You were a sturdy harness maintained by a practiced climber
Any sort of chaos was braided into the ropes which made them stronger
We were laughing as we both crammed into single passenger seat of the truck and inched down the mountain
We've seen lone souls walking desert highways of New Mexico, barefoot hitchhikers along burnt out main drags and closed down drive-ins.
We bought moonshine and turquoise on the Navajo Trail and drank in the dusty neon ghost towns of Route 66.
We went over the Rocky Mountains and found kids singing Woody Guthrie in old gold rush towns of Colorado.
We walked along railroad tracks in the shade of date palms, listened as westward bound freight trains rumbled into the red evenings. A country as mercurial as our very moods.
praise the lord!
my eight year old car
has yet, started once again!
good thing too,
I would have had an awful day
calling in sick from work
and relaxing on the couch,
smoking weed and play
guitar all day long.
from park to reverse and
out of the driveway,
then reverse to drive and
look in the rearview mirror
only to see my house quickly
disappear, like a magic trick
time to go suck today’s dick
while 16 other men sitting
in their cars on their way
to work think about
what they could
I don't know if I want it to linger
Or to fog up as this subtle reminder
But all I can believe in now
Is my fear of no more
By chance my body had to be turned
So I could watch this horrific demonstration
So I could be a useless witness
Thrown away by my helpless position,
and with no way of knowing their condition
Today, I have a fresh scar
Today, I'm afraid to start
One day this guy got off work
He went to a place to buy a car
"I need something fast", he told the clerk
"I just want to look like a superstar"
He found a Honda looking very nice
The dealer said "Totally not rice"
He hopped on in and took right off
He payed six grand but it'll pay off
Next he went to the mechanic
He did some work all over the car
The price was high but he didn't panic
The car looked great but wouldn't go too far
Stanced too much I suppose
There was a little issue with what he chose
The bottom of the car was dragging the ground
Maybe better exhaust for a more clean sound
Perhaps scraping the ground is not a good decision
Unless of course you want a collision
here’s to the taxi drivers returning home late at night,
to the man on his bicycle who just finished his shift,
to the truck drivers still on the road,
to the designated drivers and the heavy-lidded back seat passengers,
and to those at home lying awake watching the cars pass,
lost in thoughts.
Driving for miles
To get to where you are
Knees are aching
Hands are shaking
Fuel tank almost dry
Engines barely alive
Legs are tired
Tires wearing out
How long 'til I reach the end?
I'm driving to where you are
No matter how long or far
As long as the road ends
on the space beside you
I'll keep driving on
the highway towards you
length and breadth,
beats to freedom
lost on a circular.
An ebbing destination,
Follow the signs.
We are a one way street,
follow the signs
on software maps.
by sequential lights
and us, caught
in a dragnet
within steely fish,
gasping for air,
choking on smoke,
gobbing phlegm globs
in interval gaps
nose to arse to
nose to arse.
The rage, the stares
the shouts, the finger,
the Grrr’s, the Rrrr’s,
the honks, the blares,
the bumper to bumper
The rolling down,
The falling down,
the stops, the starts.
Follow the signs,
follow the signs.
clogged and bogged,
liquid black blob.
follow the signs,
follow the signs,
follow the signs,
Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017