it's a sad morning in boston where
the lights are fading at the sunrise
and the cold air surrounding a cloud of breath
isn't going anywhere.

a key in the ignition will not
improve the condition of the
lack of heat inside the car
just a frigid wind from the vents
that grows more intense
as the moments pass by

a crackling AM radio frequency
penetrates to the soul of this heap
singing songs to itself
loosely to the beat of
a gas tank begging
and a flat tire flapping on
the cold asphalt;
the signal dies just as we
hit the open road
leaving nothing but
a constant drone of
static to follow the beat

as the tank runs dry on
an empty stretch of road
cutting its way through a
barren field covered in
an idyllic white sheet.

08/31/2005

Author's Note: so, this is actually about an experience i had in minneapolis, but minneapolis is quite an ugly word. this, it was changed to boston.

Posted on 09/01/2005
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