NICE DAY
Man washes his car with lust and dreams as I,
passing, observe. I come upon his workmanship;
he's beneath a tree, working in the shade. I don't
wish to see anything, really, of his day. A hubcap
shines his face back to me - some 'classic car'
crap from another day. Cars and mufflers and
exhaust and mirrors. All that decays.
-
I want to see this dude's dreams : I want to
catch that picture of his love that dangles
from the mirror - some topless Spanish
babe with a smile and a phrase. Anything
to help him move along his days.
-
I remember a play called 'Equus' :
the lesson of which was, essentially,
that if a young man isn't grooming and
brushing his horse, it will be his car
to which he's doing the same - someday.
If the horse survives as dream, if
we survive Decay.
1 comment:
excellent poetry
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