Back Seat Driver

I think sometimes. Well, more like
I don't think, seldomly.
And those times are
few and far between
hiding harmonies
and blabbering busts.
Too late to choose to opt out.
A verdant vehicle for conception
veering,
spinning,
and crashing
out of control somewhere
near my destination, but far
off. Trying to relate to different
folks, to different post-traumatic
every-bodies, to side-steppers,
to give them a reason
for joining in on the hunt
for the wave that's coming
for the violent fairy tale
for the way cross' that unbridgeable gap.

You wake up in the morning
expecting to speak to someone,
who knows you?

People can hear these words-
these master accidents.
Thoughts slide away, while
what you say stings ears and
holds like glue.
People can see this long hair-
this eloquent freak flag.
We won't run away, we will
wait for some collective hallucination.
to pull us through.

Confide within confidence
and original optimism.
Watching your tightest thoughts
deflate into flabby regrets.
No anchor in time or
space to move about
comfortably.

Highs and Lows differ
between those
with rags
and those
with crowns.
Your public outrage
does not translate
to your private belief.
These text novels and
laptop realities alter
the ways we think.
And it's like walking home
down an alley off of the street,
feeling the stories tower above,
thinking about them toppling down.

I personally would rather
rise to the occasion.
Abandon persuasion.
Keep my mind and
my knees shaking.
Let um lose all respect
as long as
I do what
I know is right.
Take the gavel to
the Judge.
Take the surrealism
to the idealism.
Stupid strength
fades out quick.

RwmG