A Clear February Night

Exploding out of the trees at 125 mph
Seemingly not touching the ground
All four wheels weightless
Beginning the sweeping descent down the long hill

Spread out ahead
Like a contoured map in a museum
The shoreline curved gracefully to the right
Marked by the streetlights
On the road running along Marquette Bay

Off in the distance
Perhaps fifteen miles away yet
The city shone brightly
Like Emerald City
But with a bright yellow light instead of green

The old Chrysler was WFO
My foot had scarcely let up on the accelerator
This whole way across the Upper Peninsula
Since crossing the Mackinaw Bridge

Straight up from the bridge
Then turning left onto 123
Blazing into the February night
Brightly lit by a three quarter moon in a cloudless sky

Through Hamlets and Towns
Sometimes not even realizing I was in one
Until I was almost out of it
Pressing hard on the floor
Keeping the carb's butterfly straight up and down

Left onto 28
Quickly entering the Seney Stretch
Those twenty odd miles
Passing under my tires
In just over ten minutes time

Are those headlights ahead?
Is it the police?
Who fucking cares
Nothing can touch me this night
Not the law
Not wandering wildlife
No hazard can compete
With the little bubble I've created for myself
Ensconced within the forest green cabin
Of this errant Land Shark
Nosing it's way through the night

Moving
Or it might die
Moving quickly
Seeking to fly

Almost wishing this journey would never end
That twenty gallons of fuel could run through
Fill up
And run through again
Never stopping in between

Red toothy mouth open
Sucking in the stars
Eyes piercing the night
Staring it down
Pushing the bubble forward
This alternate reality

Where all things
Are as they should be

Dreamcrusher

It's too far
Don't even try
You'll fall down
Your dreams will fry

Yet I leapt the flames
Succeeding
Despite your cautions
Your maternal impeding

You fat fuck
You'll never get a date
Why are you learning to dance?
Do you really think that you have a chance?

Things are the way they are
Why do you even look at things you can't gain?
You know you'll never get them
It will all just be a huge disappointment again

I turn my pleading eyes upon you
"But I know I can do it
I can get there I swear
I just need to get to it"

You sneer at me down your pert little nose
"No you won't", you assert
"You'll get started then quit like you always do"
As you drive your knife in for the hurt

Numbly I get on with my life
Supporting the status quo
Breathing in and out to get through each day
Your eyes following me as I go

I name you Dreamcrusher

And Fuck You

Big Pie Little Pie

Big pie little pie
One full of apples numbering a dozen
The other
Full of apples numbering one

One for serving to eight people
Sitting around my table tonight
The other just for you
Packaged small for traveling light

One in a fancy nonstick tin
The other a white crockery affair
With raised designs upon the sides
And a mere one-eighth the size

Golden brown criss cross
Of crusty flaky brown
A basket weave of pastry
With cinnamon and sugar all over sown

I knew you were coming
I saw it in my crystal ball
I baked one for dinner tonight
One for you when you call

Take it with you
On your journey today
A warm little package of apple warmth
The big one will sit here and stay

So tonight we can share my apple pie together
Even though you are a thousand miles away
And think apple pie thoughts
In a big pie little pie way

(Photo inspiration credit: Zooey Deschanel)

Oliver Number Nine

They were like little white stop signs
From a long ago age
Stamped with familiar QWERTY markings
But still strangers to me

There weren't quite enough of them
Numbers and symbols crammed on letters
An affront to my modern keyboard thinking
But it still called out to me

It made my fingers itch
To touch the olive green chassis
Down-strike mechanism standing tall on either side
Like feather tufted sentinels holding spears with pride

This Oliver No 9 Standard Visible Writer
It haunts my steampunk dreams
As I ride on copper piped Zeppelins
In brass clockwork skies

I want to write orders for generals
That one great novel
A perfect poem
A humble pure word

All upon this mechanical monster
This thing from the past
Weighing fifty pounds surely
And by gods built to last

What's In The Can, Man?

I was on a simple mission
Looking for a snack for myself
When I happened upon a mystery can with no label
In the dark recesses of seldom visited shelf

It had the appearance of a tuna can
But then again it was a bit too tall
Even for the extra large kind
So it might not be that at all

Could be some pineapple
But it still wasn't quite right
Not for Dole or for store brand
Now that I held it up to the light

I shook it gently
And imagined what it might be
It could be a gateway in time
To another long ago century

I had only to pop the top
And a little wormhole might pop out
Drawing me in
Tossing me about

To land who knows where
A man out of time
Wrong clothes wrong hair
To be tried as a witch or for some other crime

Probably not one of those
So I wiped off some ooze
And I scanned the ink stamps upon it
Trying to gather some clues

A gobbledygook of numbers
In a wobbly line
I squinted and squanted trying to read it
Feeling as if I'd drank too much wine

There at last
The first I could make out that I'd seen
An expiration date as clear as day
My deadline appears to be in 2015

I have at least that long
For the planning of a plan
To try and figure out
Just what could be in the can

Social Suicide Note

I can't believe you did this to me
You judged me
You trolled me
You argued with me

When I wasn't looking
You posted inane things
That I then looked at
I was enraged

You liberal conservative commie bastards
I don't support guns
Or the lack of them
Abortions
Or the not having of them
And religion
Don't get me started
Down with it!
Up with it!

And what was that?
Is that a NIPPLE in that photo?
It makes me want to vomit black bile
Then go touch myself for awhile

It's simply too titillating
Unless it's a male nipple
Then it's ok

And
You call that art?
First graders could do better
Polluting my stream with that shit
I've had it up to here with you
I'm leaving
I'm never coming back
Don't try to talk to me out of it
I'm gone

Fuck Facebook Twitter Google+ Pinterest MySpace
And all the rest
I'll be just fine without you!
Better, actually!

Tick tock

Hey, what's going on?
I miss you guys
Can we maybe
Um
Circle each other?
Friend one another?
Your choice?

I'm lost without you

For Want of a Drink pt4

I adjust the new poster on the wall
"Drink Responsibly" it advised
A picture of a cheerful vampire
Holding a glass of maroon liquid

It's gotten to be almost as bad as the living
Vampires out of control drinking the undead
Undead Anonymous groups being organized
To help those of us who just can't get it under control

Makes me wish I hadn't done what I had done sometimes

Don't get me wrong
I wasn't the first of us to try drinking from the undead
But I was the first one to commercialize it
And for awhile it was pretty good

I set up a bar in San Francisco
It was kitschy and clean
With a distinct steampunk vibe
I was very proud of it

An antique bar with a long brass rail
Booze for the human patrons
And walkers for the vampires

Here's what you'd see if you walked in:
The huge bar
A large mirror in the center section behind it
On the left side were shelves of high end spirits
On the right were three brass racks
With restraints for human shapes
Formerly human shapes specifically
Some coppery looking tubes running up to them
Attached at the lower end to some taps

The staff would venture out to the uncontrolled areas
Early in the morning
When the walkers weren't at their fastest for some reason
And we'd capture about a dozen
Throw them in the van and make our way back to the bar

About noon
We'd take three of them
Clean them up with the hose and scrub brushes
Dress them in a black one piece
And put them into the restraints over the bar
And plumb them into the drink delivery system

When one would run dry during the evening
It had turned into quite the show
As we changed out for a fresh walker
With all the patrons chanting encouragement

At first though
Business had been slow
As vampires were a little tentative about trying it out
But as word spread
More and more came
Then other bars sprang up
Revitalizing the area

At least for a time
With humans and vampires laughing and drinking together

But things got out of hand
The government stepped in
Like they always do
Passing laws
Keeping fun in check

Now it's all regulated just like alcohol
It's not much fun anymore
But it's a living
I reflect as I polish the bar with a towel

All for want of a drink