C

Scene from a highway in the desert, I let the car drift some, Eye your uncomfortable pose and profile, The postures of long drives. Shifting numb and sore parts When you can no longer sit them. Foot on the dash, foot on the dash, X hours or so from some somewhere now, Only half aware when I change lanes half accidentally Vision fixed in the distance, identifying wildflowers And then I almost touch your leg, But something stays me. The economy of love and close quarters, A learned thing. In contrast I am marked quietly alone. Of the small rented spaces we have slept in, Tents even sometimes, In this tiny capsule. But hurtling uncertain into the inferno of forever of here. Which it does to me, the desert. It has effect, makes me mark things needlessly. In the immensity of an even breath is all I guess, Overamplifying, Overconnecting, Makes me see all small simplicities Significant, Substancial, Makes me seek out symbolism Search in the symmetry for some lost stigmas of the self. These words that hiss and makes snake sounds But it feels holy almost, though I dont say so. A native sense, but not skeletons and headdresses. No projections found in Thunder clouds shaped by soundless lightning It is an extra sense A kind of costal thing Unnamable and great An immortal unknowing Sacred in ancestry but really will only be felt here when the sun falls What we felt here and now Would be that otherworldly haunts Of coming dusk descending from immeasurable spaces To more measurable spaces And each and endless desert sprawl anarchic forever Interupted only by this highway to the west Some wound may be are abandoned depending on how you look at it Or maybe just what must marry the two vast expanses A mirror reflecting both sides Or a path more than anything But who cares what. A bridge through the history Of a place where a watch doesnt work A guide through wider spaces than the baggage of unclaimed except in concrete A place only unclaimed Except in one day, Sunday, You and I, for us. Where we get to the route is where we are going Then you speak one in the love Single landmark In memorial now, And the landscape that always passes but never passes, Does finally. And we see time again For remember the mirror pointing backwards All of the sudden watching the paintbrush shrinking at last light. And then I think again to touch your leg, But something stays me, Some voice, yours and mine, combined, And the rain that comes sang quiet First and then just sit So I crack my window just so, And almost close my eyes and almost let go of the steering wheel, but don't. It feels impossible to crash the car while we're in it.