This Afternoon I VENT
so there's this semi
sorta heading in heading out
straight for me,
windshield wipers die, the head of the viper, bitten off, pinned to my lapel,
no screeching tires
no smashed metal.
but pieces of you fly nearly to the ceiling
'cause when you're driving home from Chicago
you're not thinking of me.
Rabbits dance like ribbon in the museum
and SCREAM AGAIN
that BOY and which man?
Kiss kiss kiss kiss my love right on the nose
between the eyebrows
this boy licks my eyelash
you are close enough you are not far enough away
you are not touching the finger to the cheek
to the chin
to the hair
to the grin and to the heart to the breast to the mind
to the rest. I was not sitting inside yer brain you were silent
in the car you were crying not in the dark, not in yer bed
you were drunk you were gone
12 hours too far for 220 miles
Don't drive back from hell for me
don't look back to the park for me
don't slide feathers up and down my skin for me.
The television eats your attention.
I'm not asking for everything
I'm just asking for my heart
give it back take back throw it back
shove it back beneath the covers and hide
Oh you rose...
smash each exclamation point onto the end of the sentence
you think I'm angry you think I'm angry you think I'm upset.
Anna Anna Anna Anna Anna Anna ANNA!
I am the hyporibophosphoric metalloid in red sauce
antipreconditioned welfare policy issue 27-50 paragraph double "Q"
I just want the skies; my life; my god; the seas; you; lightening; the rain; pop culture and water balloons; trickle-down economic theory; misguided philosophical and religious doctrines, dogmas, belief systems; every friend stretching out their fingers in the dark in their bedrooms; cuban exiles; very striking coal miners; all of Martin Scorsesee's films; that GUN; this head; this brain; these eyes; and all the limbs of all the trees; all the words of all the dictionaries; heroin skank; ping-pong diplomacy; what the heck is the Ronald Regan Cross-County highway anyway; that statement; each phrase; each note a human outcry; the stealing of car keys from his pocket; silver-shaded beef in the song; that song; THAT SONG; the Chicago Seven destroying world trade centers in Agraba; fictional issues revolving man-made political systems; the horatio change; THAT SONG; public intervention of the fall pret a porte shows in Milan; pretentious bitchiness epitomized in combos; various business holdings with demons; complex rational expressions; the tracheotomy of my calculator; mad fanatical fundamentalist cows; protowaifs; silver bells and tin horns; alien threats to crash into ME.
inyerbed inyerbed inyerbed
you do not always wake up so easily.
in the car,
driving home from Chicago...
so there's this semi,
staring me down,
the honking of the horn
we three cars in this caravan
headed for Jerusalem
la ilaha illah allah la ilaha illah allah
there is only one god.
And you are not it
you dirty dirty dish rag you!
You get stuck in my head
you get THAT SONG stuck in my head, in me.
the radio is never turned down
you speeding towards the corner
somtimes you gotta run the red lights
stop signs are theoretical
take each corner at 50, hug the curb
hug it like you love it
AND HOLD ON
in the gravel
in the cement
in the dark in yer car
in the circus
on yer way back from cleveland
hold that love
to inuject again
into my spine
wrapped inside that lysergic state
wrapped inside the way you say things
the way you whisper
and touch each finger
to the lip
to the silence
to the "fripp"
to the sounds
in my ocean dreams
you were there, you were singing along
you were screaming each word softly defined
and right this second,
you are not here,
you are in my head
driving back home from Chicago.
everything here copyright anna kiss