There is a blood clot in the center of Imagination Street,
I can feel it.
It blocks the path that follows through Creative Avenue
where cars horn, roar and protest, curse and smother with
a simple look of “Move the **** on!”
And yet no paramedic can remove the jumper that
lays from austere insipid life.
It's a victim of routine they say, jumped from the nearest skyscraper
hoping to touch the sky but fell miserably on to the streets.
There is an aberration stretched over the streets, I can feel it
because it's me.

I still find myself
feeling your skin
in the spaces between
bed-sheet creases

and if
missing you is like
swerving into
oncoming traffic,
then tonight
I’m sleeping
in the road.

There’s stasis on the freeway
A backup from the bridge
An accident in the tunnel
I left my lunch in the fridge

Grey cars with no lights
Vanish in the mist
A November Oregon morning
I remember that we kissed

The parking lot is crowded
The storm surges blow after blow
Two trucks block my progress
You’ll miss me when I go?

I leave the car in limbo-land
I give a street kid a tip
There’s a long walk to the office
Your taste lingered on my lip

Another dreary screen day
Click once here for madness
Scroll your life to hell
Did we really do our best?

I left my lunch in the fridge
I remember that we kissed
You’ll miss me when I go
Your taste lingered on my lips
Did we really do our best?

I used to avoid the outdoors
And confine myself to the comfort
And familiarity of inside
But you
You made the summer breeze that my hair danced with
Smell like safety
You made the background drone
Of distant traffic
Sound like comfort
Because it was covered
By our raw laughter
You made me start loving the wildflowers
Because they grew along the trail
On which we walked side by side
I fell in love with the outside
Because that's where we were
When I fell in love
With the idea of you and me

Behind the traffic of thought
the type that creates
tracks along desire lines
tires screech in frustration
that got me
nowhere close to discovery
i began realize there is a presence
within the whisper
of the windshield wipers
buzzing in inefficiency-
reminding me
that it doesn't matter if i'm
stuck behind a line of slow cars
honking in patterns of unrest
the rain will always wipe away
to reveal a bit of clarity
in my direction
and though it is only feet- inches?
there is movement.
and every time we're on the road
together
there is company.
and as long there isn't any red
or blue lights flashing nearby,
we can try to smile and enjoy the ride.

when you find yourself stopped at a green light
once
twice
maybe three light cycles

abandon all fear that you won't reach your goal
just say these words two times each, eight seconds apart:

love
unity
abundance

now, drop anything that feels heavy

you will reach your destination

it is hell
to have loved someone-
to know you love them
right now, still-
so much and for so long,
and to realize
you don't actually feel
them loving you back.

if you turn onto
a one-way street
in the wrong direction,
it is still dangerous,
against the law
even if you didn't see the sign.
and just because i love
and my love is accepted
does not mean
i'm on a two-way street.

now i'm crushed.
between metal and metal
i'm crushed. in flashes,
when you speak, i see
myself chewed between your teeth.

so when you light up when you smile
when i say in some way that
i love you, you are also
the oncoming headlights,
appearing suddenly,
coming at me on the highway.

Oh King of
mixed signals,
could you once,
be clear?
Your red light,
green light,
yellow light
are all on
at once.
Causing traffic
on the interstate of
my mind.
Backed up for hours,
your red light,
green light,
yellow light
are all on
at once.
Stay.
Go.
Slow.
Oh King of
mixed signals,
make up
your mind.