the man in the starry tie

led me talking backwards

across the waving chips

i spoke fantastic, like a prophet

like a piece of blood

where no doors are



and weary now i set upon the good year

and the wrench

wrenching out of me every 

ready of light 

that i might get it right

and walk away

into the metro sunset

the golden metro may



and now across the plains

take your child

the highway sign, banana trees,

windows parted and hoping

see the flat faced delicatessen

sweeping up the afternoon

pick up little pieces of meetings

and on your way

here is the donut shop

here is the early morning light

where i would drool in chlorine

yes here is the early early mornings i spent training



and here is the highway

chasing 'j's' out on his empty skin

looking for license plates

and liquor stores

over there is new mexico

and down there is corpus

you can find my mother and me wrapped up in a warm

scotch on the rocks

the numbing ice of each others eyes

looking just like now

for relief



there is no direction but past

every thing else is passive

but if you would seek me

seek me there

in a field 

or a gas station

in my american mothers arms

before she is too medicated

to remember 

how to say my name



say it gently, just once more

for me mother

with the sounds of trucks and distant trains

with the gold sticks 

and the burnt skin of prayer

bathe me once again 

in hot oil

silence and long, long days

car keys and dash board lights

bears in the garbage

that sweet honeycomb

of memory

don't weave the web too tight

don't catch me tonight

speak to me in cool lines

the steering wheels turning

where ever we go

dinner approaches



the fire light

of high beam and lipstick

laughing the red midwest

her curled curtains

wild and a strand of me stuck in her mouth

wet always an outsider

to the cities i create



the entire east comes upon me and i

reeling in stars

grip the wheel

a good girl, really

just don't know how to stop

this thing