turning onto 7th and polk by Rachelle Howei dream about driving.
sometimes down one way streets
with people in the other cars
looking bewildered.
helpful devils.
they try to point me
in the right direction with angry glares
honking horns, and
middle fingers.
i thank them for their assistance.
once i was plowing through a corn field
at 80 miles an hour. i looked around,
noting only the stalks, a smoldering cigarette,
and the gathering pile of ash
staining my jeans.
i wanted to burn my way
through the endless wilderness.
burn my way through the yellow's and grays.
they just kept growing taller, taller, looming.
as i woke that morning,
my fingers stained and sore,
i couldn't help but think:
this is what the world has come to, sally.
of my sanity, this is all that's left. 02/13/2005 Author's Note: i wasn't going to post this. it's not jaw-dropping, and i don't want it to be. i just wanted it out. i dream about driving all the time. various reasons, various ways. but always driving. oi.
Posted on 02/13/2005 Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Ginette T Belle on 02/15/05 at 01:28 AM love the way you've written this with a metaphorical aspect to it that i definitely relate to...wonderful poem... |
Posted by Christina Bruno on 02/18/05 at 12:53 AM this piece is great...i really like the last stanza...it was very well put together |
Posted by Kristine Briese on 03/15/05 at 09:39 PM This is, of course, incredible. An interesting look into your nighttime head. |
Posted by Ava Blu on 01/13/09 at 12:44 AM aaaaaaaahhh. i love. this. |
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