Sunday, August 08, 2004

Closing at 100

Windshield sun,
Magic drops in my soul
Break like pellets
Blood everywhere
Mules pull the chariots
Black on black
Distilled liquor discharges throughout my body
Broken dishes everywhere
Veins collapsing, water running,
Fish days
Old folk cursing in my nostrils
Beggars bath free endear me
Red lights always stop me
Yellow lights always haunt me
Traffic cops with every mile
Squealing breaks
Pressed further by the distance
Closing at 100