Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.

Monday, March 3, 2008

while the triple sixers lassos keep angels roped in the basement...

the rain slaked our thirst for gray.
so be it.
the highways sleeted debris.
so be it.
the sun so hot yesterday blinded us to euphoria
today, gray as duct tape, reminds us that this is life at the moment
stuck on the fibers.
so be it.
we are just porno huts alongside a truckers highway in rural missouri.
we are just their business cards with a girl named starla tits hanging out
of her latex yellow bathing suit, thrown half knowingly like tailpipes
on 70. where mark twain was born, you can look at a log cabin
and feel the magic of history, like dill pickles preserved
150 years too long.
in mark twain's name there is a hood in the heart of st. louis
with 'we buy junk car' signs stuck on every other electrical box,
cars stare like business guys
with angry brows and cheap expensivelooking sunglasses
as opposed to yesterdays white diamonds of night.
so we move in so that
when you no longer jiggle with the rhythm
shake to thabreaks tothat break of dawn bump
and on
you just pack your shit into a car and move.
to the break of dawn to the chasing of daylight
like it was a clydesdale.
to the everlovin break of dawn.
and burn past like a hand-rolled cigeratte
dry kindling to a burnt lung
and move, move st. louis
move on, move like a pedestrian
i am going too fast for y
ou get out of my way
just move
the fuck over.
i travel so far so fast
sitting here.

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