taking a car ride

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

that one time was all the time


a certain collection of noise from the stereo

reminds me of the drugs i smoked in my car, when addiction

was a deadbeat father i couldn't recognize and

i was hesitant to admit the few memorable times i fell asleep

in his lap.

(my car is still a vacuum, snow falls here.)

the outside scrolls by quiet and fast, a delusory greenworld unfolding in

slowed seconds on videotape

but the colors have become confused, the air is mottled azure while the sun is

the last red-orangish drop of tea. a water tower has been burnt like a match,

going scarlet and finishing black, the stem beneath the round head wriggles,

warping from insupportable warmth.

times that are ending, evenings and autumns, smoldering copper-hued times

pour over plaster buildings staining them for just as long

as i can exhale without choking.

when night comes on, punctuated by cold syrupy lights trickling

into existence, trees that were crimson bow to the relativity of color,

collectively become anonymous shaking fists

and then indiscernible in the dark.


Submitted: May 21, 2013

© Copyright 2023 Caroline Michaud. All rights reserved.

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