Broken Road

Wanna run away
Escape needs accomplices
But I’ve got no one


PMS-ku : action!

(photo by Keystone)

Want a fantasy?
Be quiet, testosterone
No! I wanna play!

It’s highly likely
There will be struggle this week.
Mind over lusty

This one’s for me

Someone else will think I am pretty
Someone will hold me in high esteem
Today is not that day
Today the only person I will look to for that is me.

In the near future
Someone besides myself will value my existence
Someone will miss my very presence
Right now has felt barren of any such kind of sentiment
For tomorrow I wish to no longer look outside for it

Years from now
A “we” will look back and see how far we’ve come
I will fully appreciate how long my own journey was
This year has not been kind or gentle or proud
This year I truly learned what grief was about

When I have gone
I hope my family will look on me with love and respect
I hope my life will have meant more than some transition from birth to death
So often it’s been a challenge I didn’t agree to or want
But I’m here to take it. Now. And for the somedays and the future, and the me who matters
and is SOMEONE.

Car talk

I am not taking care of this machine
I am not maintenancing the engine
Barely keeping the body clean
So much rust
The frame is twisted underneath
The stress of a thousand collisions
And my chassis is weak
Don’t even ask about the interior
Cracks filled with dust
Smudges and chips on the mirrors
Radio is all static
Can’t go for long trips
I can’t sell me or trade me in
I’m old and funky
I’m one or two more crashes away from being junked

I need a bodyshopping
Scrub brushes and acid treatments
Some kind of mechanical savior
Replace my fuel lines and radiator
Throw away all this clutter
Hammer out the dents
Reinforce the strut
Coat and clean me
Install some new technology
Resurface and enhance my upholstery
Wait, gimme some racing stripes
Fuck it, I want double exhaust pipes
Give me a block of 8
Fuel inject my brain
Low profile wheels please
I like to hug everything I see
Oh wait and chrome and leather
And a fat spoiler (no mud flaps)
Moonroof and special sensors
16 speakers
I don’t know where to put them either
Doesn’t matter
I want you to hear me before you see me

Make me brand new
Because this me isn’t made for these surfaces

This me putt-putts
Spitting and spurting
Burning oil
Limping along
Thinking someone will put me out of my misery
But I can still run
I’m still running
I’m still running
Am I still running?