The revs blare on the soft highway
Years have passed
Much ashphalt under rubber
the wheel wells the seats
The endless surface
the smell of gas
the fever dream
Colors of another life interrupting
Imposing themselves into this one
Over the road inside the vehicle
The decade of the seventies gripping onto the eighties
A tiny grain of sugar atop the upholstery
Sparkling out to the child in the neighboring car
Unable to identify it
The dog Ribbons sucked the rug
His rug to be precise
He slobbered it
Bit it and almost ingested it
Then he turned back to me
Like pay attention here you negligent owner
He bites again licks and licks
Slobbers
This dog got the restless
the ghost fleas
The ripples and rapids of a dog dream
he turned back to me
feed me
talk to me
Mr Ribbons chewed the rugged
Then in succession fell asleep
Those eyes that look back
Those eyes that feel judged
On a body too big for its application
In an urgency not indicative of its nature
Eyes that look back
and at the last moment look away in fear
Fear of being seen through, evaluated and ridiculed
The pain inside the eye... white hot, the iris scalding, pupil eternal
Those eyes that feel the weight of the observer
That absorbs the outward energies flung like impulive reactions
Sparks that land on the membrane of the turning blind eye
She got stuck with the cars
She still keeps up with the trends
1950s sentiment reaching into her temples
Divine antiquated reverberation
Velvet blinders block observation
She turns the hand crank to get the motor started
The wheels go round and the things shudders
But inside it is broken and offensive
The outer paint is expensive
Her habits correspond with her personality
All purpose is simulation for most of us that is true
Illusions of control and age makes it all iffy
Wine to get the middle ground to squiffy
Father we always followed your goals
never creating our own
Humble and modest
Pathetic and rudderless
For what would we make of our own destinies
Should we squander our lives to make yours comfortable
Not reach too far for only you are allowed that privilege
Father should we be less and you be more?
Or you figured it out and we are still calculating
It comes easily doesn't it father
We just need to know not to sweat the small stuff
Get all the glory then summarize away
Should we not exaggerate the way you did?
Should we become clones for ambition
Are we deemed invalid without it
condemned to failure lest we follow your goals
That way we stay less and you become more
And when its our turn to win you simply check out
main thing is you get your part
I lost my phone my hope my connection
My guile my wisdom my fury my fire gone
I lost it all and stand unhuman
A primitive confusion
I lost my phone I hide behind a shrub
I do not want to be seen
The hours tick by and I lose each appointment
That feeling of missing out
I ask to borrow someone elses
But none of my contact information is there
I have no way of reaching out I am cut off
The sunlight doesn't lull me it is pure anguish
The submarine drone boosted
Parked under the wharf
Under the seaside hotel
packed with explosives
The two brothers checked into the hotel
Signed into the book under pseudonyms
Armed the bombs and activated the countdown
Then left to entertain themselves in a local park
The bombs went off blowing pieces of the hotel all over
Pieces of the wharf and restaurant roof shooting over the park
There would be nothing left and the two brothers simply pretended
that they were not responsible for the terrorism
