My laptop has uncanny insight into my mind........
summer of ’92, before
the
flood, before the
abortion, before she
tells me whose baby it
is
a rusting trailer at
the edge of a cornfield
buzz of cicadas,
neverending rumble of
trains passing in the
distance and she says her
husband ignores her or
he yells at her
says he hasn’t fucked
her in
almost three years,
doesn’t even hit her
anymore, and
what we’re waiting for
is winter
the possibility of
escape that
never becomes a reality
the inevitable future
which is only ever a
less hopeful
version of the defeated
past
and now
nothing means anything
north
of the city, late february, wastelands and
industrial
parks and nothing quite living
and
nothing quite dead
each
sunfilled day an
infinite
weight on the chest
each
passing moment, and
what to
do but drive?
shades
of luminous grey layered over
shades
of luminous grey, and that
the
rain here tastes like poison
that
you learn to accept it
and
this is the plan, okay?
this is
the nothing from nothing that
will
come to define all of our lives
not
freedom but the
freedom
to consume
the
need for more even in this
manmade
wasteland, and have i failed my
children
or was it my own children
who
failed me?
i’m
told the distinction matters
i’m
told that all wars can be won,
but who
are you willing to sacrifice?
who do
you love more
than
yourself?
everyone
lies at
some
point