dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: car

Driving in the dark,

Dreaming for the houses

With their nightlights on the outside,

Window blinds tugged

Like  sleep masks firmly in place,

And dewy blankets pushed back

Just a little by

Each carport’s concrete fingers.

The car radio sings a loud lullaby

And I think

Being awake must mean 

Living more than one life.

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Bionic black violin bow, 
Weather gavel,
Rain whip,

Chastening floodwaters,
Chasing each drop.

Heavy railroad crossing gate, 
Aquatic baton,
Auto eyelash,

Strong and simple 
Works until the job’s done.

Metal appendage of a grasshopper,
Water warrior,
Storm dial.

Hardened extension of nature,
Indispensable accessory.


We shift to sleep,

Downward like gears in a car,

Kettle bells an extension of our arms,

Elevator arrow down,

No lullabies just sighs to snores

To sunlight in the morning.


I want to drive

Without a windshield

Into the downpour

Of your mind.

Send troubles

Like tree branches

Crashing my way,

There’s no glass barrier

To shatter.

 


Her jaws are hinged shut
As his swing open wide,

Her head’s screwed on tightly,
His jerks side to side.

A practiced Stoic,
In silence she sits.

Her bored expressions
Say it’s not the first of his fits.

Completely different genres
Pulse through their veins,

Only the faintest hint
Of their song remains,

The faint harmony
Barely reaches my ear

As I watch the drama unfold
In my rearview mirror.