so he struck out in the direction of home
the hushed scuffed aisles of the grocery store
pulled his red car out of its colorless room

fluoresence bathing the bike frames and tire jacks
grey junk hung and jumbled in the light-washed gloom
ahead lay Raisin Bran Crunch and a Schick with aloe
he started up his dumb machine and sailed away
heart-racing, solitude unbridled, stars a-twinkle
and switched on the little radio.

​

how to explain and why to explain
the shoals that anymore dissuade navigation
years uncounted of vibrant cutting blank
vivid self-ignorant chit chat murders and leaves no tracks
piercing small talk with the lady at the bank
circularity and ritual leave the listener aghast

waves of empty verbiage bury the days and nights
inundate the overwhelmed defenses 
no thinking soul can survive this ceaseless numbing blast.

​

one morning he shelters behind the streaked windshield

California sun strikes the glass like a match
wind-blown birthday families people a littered seaside lawn
sun drenched picnic tables, jabbering cliques and claques

rooted to his bucket seat he stares at all the carrying on
all this roseate gift, the dizzying chances lost
look at the fools, what news can they bring
professional guys with graying temples drape their arms and laugh
seen through an arc of wiper smear

opaque and bright as frost.