Saturday, July 9, 2011

theresa is a traveler's name

as if i haven't worn enough of a trench
laying down rubber like lines of paint over lapping
the beginnings of a yarn ball modern painting
tooling back and forth on these roads that will not forget
that i have rolled over them doing nothing but dreaming
of what could be off the next exit
dreaming of escaping off that too too familiar path
for all of my hoping those streets always seemed to end in places of usualality
a final red haltering stop
but on those bright and rare occasions they would end
with clear signs of further goings
even if there was no further to be gone that day
amusement parks for instance or movie theaters and even the airport
to just park near the airfield and watch planes of all sizes get up and go
i always felt i tore off pieces of me as bon voyage confetti
and threw hand fulls out to each plane
to carry some part of me where ever and points beyond