Often trees are conductors of the absolute, the sidereal cuss
eternity. the blow escapes the rehab and into the fire as known
but
lost coupons short of your toaster of existence. the mind needs consciousness,
consciousness does not need mind. Bon Voyage.. when the body revolts within itself, and parts battle
parts,
it's the last revolution, the last pogo, follow the few that
have wisdom, don't let it deceive with knowledge, the brass ring of annihilation, you'll be recognized by a chip, and maybe it will be all that's left..

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Sheila Martindale

Volkswagon Song

Sheila Martindale
From:   Negotiable Assets. (chapbook, Pierian Press, 1986).


You overtook me on the highway
and took me by surprise
I did not know you were behind me
until your eighteen-wheel transporter
roared by my left flank scattering
gravel dust-clouds and my complacency

For miles I was carried in your updraft
struggling to steer while being swept
dangerously near your loaded rig
my four cylinders spluttering
in the wake of your mega-powered engine

I hugged the road knowing that one touch
of our wheels would send me spinning
across the soft shoulder chassis over roof
into the ditch

When you pulled away
your red lights flashing in my eyes
diminished as they stretched
the growing distance between us
finally disappearing over the crest

Then I resumed my old pace
took control of my own steering
shaken and out of breath but
glad enough of solitude and space

And sometimes on my lonely night drives
the long haul between the cities of my life
I feel vibration on the tarmac
a slight shuddering of undercarriage
and think I hear in the rear distance
the portentous rumbling
of your approach

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