"carwash" poems
I see it for just a moment
A squishy mound of fur to the far right of the asphalt
This latest pile of dislocated mush is presented on a desert highway
A raccoon? No. Too small.
A coyote? Maybe. Who can tell?
That play-dough pile of crushed bones was not created outside the white lines where it now lays
Some chosen soul scraped and scooped the mystery meat to its resting place
Some jumpsuit wearing civilian is intimately aware with the parentage of the reassembled road victim
Do they have a moment of silence after the last shovel scrape?
Do they hold an internal roadside memorial?
What of the homicidal perpetrator behind his wheels?
He must know the identity of his victim
He must feel the agony of guilt
Or, is his only remorse in the quarters he must spend at the self-service carwash to remove the evidence?
Perhaps Road-Kill animals haunt their vehicle killers
Maybe their blood can never be truly washed from the ****** weapon’s shinny surface
Like spots on Lady Macbeth’s hands
Perhaps the killer’s dreams are frequented by unidentifiable ****** mounds with eyes that stare from unnatural places
After all
Justice must be had in one way or another
For the unrecognizable John Doe pile represents all those wild things that must chance to cross the hard, hot, lethal highway
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
suds fall on black like endless snow.
tarnished paint to spry—
engine's diminutive breath
clout of metal coil, ballasts of portent...
defacing the fog and giving
it a brand new meaning. beside the rice fields in sullen Bulacan,
i ache for the frog defecating
on this tortured piece of land.
birds in migratory V-positions cleave
the azure, vanishing behind the tough ornate. to whence they flee
and to where they shall land
on their poised talons, i do not know.
underneath the dermis and over
it, a long stillness of waiting,
trapped is this
man of Earth.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 3:43 AM UTC
Peter got a sandwich for you.
mama went shopping ,
Gabriel needs a carwash,
Cristen choked on his ***** ,
Iris sailed the oceans,
Blake died of ennui.
Martha blew her neighbour,
Adrian stole her *******
Beth went out of liquor,
Walter cooked a new batch.
Marla is a ******
Gambit dealt a new pack.
And so and so they pass by
All these million names.
Who cares to blink twice
At a facecless face?
And then came eh...! wry dry, Dont **** Me, " ... " I can't even
Say his name.
It's like this name
Blew my heart out with a shotgun
right through my rib cage.
And these are the names
Which pierce your heart
And make you breathless
Because they hold stories
That you always hid in darkness.
And
You have skeletons In your
Closet
Like thats not enough
To give you the brain flu!
But the salt on the wound
Is that-
so does your wife,
Your mistress,
And everyone around you.
(gunshot)
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:00 AM UTC
Beautiful woman snaking downtown Sixth St.
You the one with the carwash hem
With slit cuts up to the "yikes" territory
Revealing a body
As if soliciting ideas
That everything is waiting for you
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
Midnight, pitch black and raining
He washes his car.
Swimming upstream against the impossible:
Tainted raindrops creating an unfinishable task
Blind to its full grasp on his life.
He loves that car. Busted old thing -
Barely road worthy
But he fights to keep it clean
Through darkness.
Midnight car washes have become more frequent.
Filling the void. Filing for divorce.
Tainted raindrops smear his life,
His wife publicly smeared in a community obsessive over the local news.
Local rumour flies.
That rusty old thing
Why is he out there cleaning again?
Cleaning in the dark -
How can he see the dirt?
Inside she looks on, looks on to the coward.
She can see the dirt
The former great, the former lover.
That ******* car.
The muted mesh of metal
That held her former lover
and his former lover.
Out there his avoidance is her disdain.
Midnight, pitch black and raining
He washes his car.
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
Parking lot carwash Sign:
FOR USA
Eses and esas
listenin to oldies
playing with Hoses
Four güeros pull up
eight *****
up their noses
Roll down the
window give the
cholos some props
"Hey guys..glad
your supporting
the country"...
everything
goes silent
you
ca
n
h
e
a
r
a
p
i
n
dro
p
......"whatchoo talking 'bout ese.....this is For Us Eh!"
Crank the Johnny Chingas back up, the hoses all squirting
as the white boys drive off
in their own **** stained dump
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
I
See
The
Days
Roll
By
They
Smell
Of
Flowers
At
The
Death of
Summertime
Light
Through
My
Window -
A
Spinning
Fan
Seeking
Acceptance
I
Lose
The
Passion
Where
Did
All
The
Creation
Go?
A
New
Feeling:
Heavier
Formal
Expected
Boring
How
Can I
Break
Out
Of
This
Shell I've
Created
For
Myself?
Each road
Eventually
Forks.
Each path
Eventually
Ends.
Everyone
Has
Their
Way.
I see
Mine in glimpses:
At
The carwash.
At the grocery.
Holding
Perhaps a
Child
With an
Ironic
Grin on
My
Face.
Maybe
Growing
Up is
Easier
Than
I'd imagined.
I try
To envision
My life
In
Another way.
Maybe
In a
Place
Where the
Walls
Aren't so
White,
The Sun
Not so
Bright,
The night
Not so
Tight.
But,
These
Crude
Imaginings;
Are
They
Real?
What
Would
Really be
Different?
Excuses
For
My position
Now.
Would
Things be
Better?
I don't
Know.
There's
Just
This
Keyboard
In
Front of
Me and
This
Beer.
What
Would
Be
Different
If I
Weren't
Here?
A few
Misplaced
Feelings,
A few
Shoes
Untied,
A few
Ignorant
Tears.
What
Would
Be
Different
If I
Weren't
Here?
A
Few
Things,
But
Next to
That,
Nothing.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC
She currently
Purred Fee Vixen-facts
Dylans made Millions
She- blown off
The Catwalk
Girl-edgy talk
ekkh_ Sheik
She could
Cats Meow
any Shrink
Her alley Bistro
lego-land
That maestro
Teeth decay
Licking milk
off the
ground
Purr- payday
He's roaring
Twenty years
old Cheetah
May the force_____
Be with you
forever young
Star Wars Hans
Solo
Blowing in
the wind
Serengeti
((The Drug Catnip))
So tucked in
his Lamborghini
Paws carwash
Where is
Sponge Bob
Pixie-bob snag
All shagged
Austin Power
with Mini-me
layered bob
That Chausie
sorry
You need
to go
home
My Lassie___*
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
Lying in bed, I shift my vehicle
into new day. A day that is blessed
by rising sun.
Feet become wheels, spinning in dance gracefully.
Skin is cleansed in carwash-like shower
that tickles to birth smile.
Moments captured in suns rays vibrate,
as gyrating beams flicker
and penetrate cells.
Air infused intentions
rise in thoughts expanding
to merge with gas-like breath.
Blessings surface, as guidance
from navigational system of heart
purrs, gracefully.
Brum, *** echoes,
merging with days landscape,
as dance commences.
Brum, *** fills air
as compassion toward others
becomes goal.
In instant, hands folded
on steering wheel of prayer
anchor, as gratitude fills thoughts.
As wind pervades senses
and birds sing on welcome mat
of ears woven by hair.
The day has begun in celebration,
while cruse controlled movements
connect to surroundings.
While alignment is made
to source as freedom bell rings
inside waking hours.
I’m blessed, ready to shift gears
inside unlimited possibilities
on highway of life.
Blessed to rondevu with light
for peace, while fuel of love energies
congeal with purpose.
Purpose to make the best
of the gift of life given
in a vehicle anointed by God.
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
Back in the 90’s, I remember the fun we used
to have in the summer time, cruising down the
spiraling streets of sweet escape, the stark sun
pouring down its intense sunbeams onto
our skin, the overcrowded pedestrians scurrying
through the streets into parking lots, shopping malls,
flashy restaurants, some standing at the carwash,
water-soaking their vehicles to a finishing polished glow,
others sitting at the bus stop conversing on some random topic,
while Biggie’s, music, One More Chance, escaped
from the radio into the air, our hands lost in gravity
at the smooth, synchronized beats, our heads bopping
and bouncing with steady motion, the bright, sparkling
flash in our teeth, as we passed through the cityscape,
drifting into dreams of freedom, the sky above us staring
at the captivating canvas, and the smile written in our faces,
while a group of guys standing on the corner of streets, smoking
cigarettes one after another, and young, petite girls sneaked a peek
at us, rocking in slow motion to the reverberating sounds
rumbling through our vehicle, girl’s hips swinging nonstop, like
they were uncontrollable, like they were on a wave of uncharted
territories traveling the gaudy scene to a world of glistening paradise.
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 9:31 PM UTC
something she had seen
mid the concrete, puddles, suds
made her think ‘is my car clean
look as shiny as it should?’
seeing sponges slapping screens
spying soapy splashes slosh
and those lads in skin tight jeans
working at the street carwash
so she pulled up in her Merc
where she stole more sneaky looks
as they set about their work
while she sipped on her Starbucks
and that soggy bunch of guys
put on something of a show
as the heater warmed her thighs
but quite needlessly so
made her bite the paper cup
sent her tongue across her lips
as a t-shirt pulled right up
and she fumbled for a tip
and some time in due course
her car looked forecourt new
but she panted like a horse
and her knickers stuck like glue
but she drove back to the street
to resume her working day
and she earned tomorrow’s treat
hitting puddles all the way
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 8:14 AM UTC
latches on
to your mind
******* on the uniqueness,
iconic-ness,
spontaneous actions,
of who You are.
Having a Storm Trooper
as your companion
For a six hour drive,
Lighting a bowl
in a middle of a *** &
Go carwash,
Being my bright ball of
light, when I
needed it.
The parasite latches onto
that happiness,
laughter, and
soul of yours.
Spits all of it
onto the floor,
letting it evaporate
in the air.
That little parasite
clinging on to
your mind
haunts You.
You’ve taken
medications,
shook your head,
and dreamt.
But the parasite’s will
is greater than your
mind.
You can’t see
who You truly are
any longer
but I can.
You’re
Strong
Stronger than anyone
I’ve seen.
You’re
Brave.
You could’ve ended
It all. But You
didn’t.
So, You know what?
You’ll get rid
Of that parasite
And live the life
You were meant to
live.
I hope You do.
Because
You
deserve it.
Always.
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 7:04 PM UTC