PLASTIC NEON RAINCOAT POEM
cars cruise this underground cavern like sharks
looking for the niche in the foodchain where they can be free of their
survivalist transigience &sleep not wondering
if the other sharks in the cavern are dead or just sleeping
in the grey-lit twilight outside
the covered-wagon sky that turns white lines into an incomplete escher grid
laid down in a frenzied failed attempt to dictate the landscape &I
long to walk free of this steel frame & see who comes to get me
if I step across that line, that one right there, to get a better
view of the psychotic array of placards and placecards
this vast plastic neon raincoat designed
to keep the denizens dry. On these days
when the politics of the possible comes clearly into view
in a city where desire and necessity have been fused bonded blinded
like lovers legs and arms twined together mouths and groins dissappearing into
oneanother caught in the photo-flash of fission
Yes I am; car in gear, ignition off, brake set, door open out close yes I am
crossing that line the one
that lets me get a better view of the landscape pardon me
but I love watchung nature car securely tucked in a niche in the grid
I walk a few steps a few more feeling the temptation to keep walking
like a physical presence, a clump of platelets at the doorjamb of a heart valve
leave this steel shark behind and the life inside it
quietly towed away after a number of weeks it will feel nothing the shark
is sleeping now the life
was asleep already walk out
and enjoy the rain explore the raincoat watch
the work in progress watch the pieces falling into place maybe
find a new ecosystem downtown or rediscover
the rings of stone on the westside but no
no the weight of the car is too much like a bear trap on my ankle
a few more steps and I'll begin to hobble like a civil war survivor
and no and so backand so back to the blue steel shark
back to the small shark with the dents I did not give him and full of a life
I had not expected back to the weights and checks and balances that maybe
I don't know maybe keep me from ascending too fast and getting the bends
maybe
keep me centered on the tightrope of life maybe
do nothing at all but keep me from exploring
the creases and crinkles and folds
of the neon raincoat plastic raincoat
that keeps the denizens dry
on days when the covered wagon sky unfolds into the drizzley twighlight
and where to now? perhaps back to the mall
where I can buy an X cap and a double latte
under the plastic neon raincoat
which keeps the denizens warm and dry
which is maybe where I belong
after all.