another black night crash

stuttering like the rebel
wearing sunglasses at night
right off the road and into the brush 
never touched
as yellow as the sun shining
eighty degrees and not a dirty bird in sight
seeing and hearing 
but no one is here but me 
and one other on the other side…

and as the silent movie rolls I get bored
especially with army talk 
and rolling grass that has never been cut 
or at least since the late eighties 
ten years down the road 
and I can’t even imagine where I’ll be 
home soon enough
there’s no need to wait up I have my key

tonight shall be interesting I don’t 
feel like moving while the others can’t stop 
telling me I am wrong again I realize it 
doesn’t matter as much as I try 
the seagull won’t swim and the trees won’t walk 
but weep and they do plenty of that 
and I wish I could crash neck first 
with gravity pulling at my feet 
first falling like that cat frozen in the headlight
the world’s largest book store junkie feeding the need

tomorrow will bring snow and I guess I have no patience 
wrong place wrong time and now I am alone again 
and I patiently wait for the spider web to fall in the rain
but it is too strong and I cannot move 
from the black square blocked on all sides
closing in too fast for feet so furry
and eyes running circles around an empty room
enough to breathe but even the most pleasant breathing
is filled with seeds of suffering
what is night anyway
another black night crash…