Friday, May 16, 2014

streetlights (planes pt 3)

streetlights, planes pt 3
March 4, 2013 at 6:45pm

street level, and the gloss black behemoth i'm in slides out of the taxi lane into slow traffic.
the glass above me is a portal to the moon and underpasses and the rain slides off it haphazardly,
hundreds of tiny starlight prisms splitting and rejoining, racing to the edges of the glass as we race,
as we saunter into the edges of the city, to the ends of the earth.
i try to find solace in the intermittent patches of night sky through the new glass ceiling of my world,
but supernova bursts from streetlights fracture the skyline and leave burnt impressions,
but even these slowly fade
as impressions often do.
piano and contrabass hum and beat against my shoulders in the leather seat that fits around me like an old saddle,
but even the light score seems despondent and atonal in a grey night of rain and restlessness.
my hope swells with crescendos and dims again, and the car swerves and lurches forward as we gravitate
toward some distant point on the horizon, guided only by the lights of night and the white lines in the road.
shades of the car glide over storefronts and first floor glass and fade into memories in alleyways with breathing gutters and gatherings of the ghosts of better men.
in my mind, i dream.

i dream behind the presidential black glass partition that divides me
divides me from the man, the face motivating the motor i'm in.
i close my eyes and i can bribe and bargain my way over mountaintops,
i can sew mercy up like a moccasin, i can cut and suture any hopes and strength
any of my followers may have marshaled
i can descend the other side, and as the last ember of my fire dies,
i can leave them above the treeline.

the car coasts and slides across wet long distance lines, and i've bridged the distance i intended to span
and more, and the jagged glass fingers of the city cut into the sky's ragged veins behind us,
the dull afterglow burning in the background,
and the more the lights fade, the less i remember the shape of my heart
and my home, where i left it.