DEAD CHILDREN ON DEAD STREETS

Down the interstate in a
big red car
topping 150 like an accountant
shredding the evidence
past the pink flamingos that
don’t exist
heads stuck in white
picket fences blurred by change
throwin’ dimes a passers
by
the black the red the
yellow the white
screamin’ ding dong the
witch is dead
and following phantoms
without any heads
up looks down while down
looks up
and I speed sideways
through rusty memories and
the bottom of too-soon-ending
alcohols
rushing
rushing
rushing

towards what?

vision has no end no goals
vision has no wisdom

another cigarette another
dead animal more excuses
with no reason to blink
excessive and obsessive are
a marriage in heaven for
the falling leaves the falling
stars the falling men and
women and children of a
backward rotating world

gone mad

unsticking the stuck like
popping the cork on a
dusty once forgotten
bottle of fine, fine
red

160
170
180
speed past the poor
at the end of a stick
swung by the blue

past the dead children
on the dead streets of
a city dead of love

no mind for no time
cause time moves as it
likes across the faces
of the people
shadows
fast and extreme

we all
swallow our suns
sometime …