the spirits by the roadside dance to your delight, blind driver
you’ve got gilded fins however hidden in the din of all the minnows that fly by night
there’s eyes in the striations on the strings connecting their collective at the speed of light
mycelial wire-bound messengers carrying transmissions from post to post
tears gather in polyisoprene irises, the rain falls rhythmic on the road. If you could only listen to the music, deaf rider, you’d hear us all calling you home
your tires crawl over, careless, this machine’s built to do what it is told. Your heels are leaded, you know where you’re heading and all we can do is watch as you go
between your crowded ears a hand twists a crank and brass pins pluck brass teeth
through the rusty music you can hear your mothers voice
“There are places left untouched
within all of us, you have swallowed a key
alongside your first breath of air.”
you can see her waltz upside down with your father
in the rearview mirror, her dress brushes past your hair
“The illusion reflects us as
we reflect it, there are gods
mechanical and corporeal
we live on the body we’ve built
from another. we live in bodies
borrowed.”
the reddened sky is in the pools of rain on the asphalt, even now, you travel on arteries.
“I know, someday,
that you will want to break the mirror.”
the moon watches on, faint and mournful
as your grip tightens on the wheel
