Cigarettes and Car Rides
I can taste 2014
The music isn't as harsh as it should be
And the grating flavor of the Marlboro Reds are sweet
Besides the fizz of Cherry Monster,
Gentle on my lungs in a way my words aren't.
It is quiet.
.
The night is black as black can get,
Pricked with little points of blurry white
That should be sharp but I left my glasses at home
Beside my reasonable sensibilities and will to live.
No one is yelling.
.
There are clouds on the horizon
And my shadow resting silently beside me,
Watching as diligently as I am at the flashes on the west.
The silo winks in the moonlight.
The storm is coming.
.
Another drag. Another plume of smoke puffing on my lips.
Another sip of stained red Monster.
The storm is coming but it isn't here yet and maybe
I can outrun it this time, chase it and flee.
The engine roars to life.
.
And suddenly the world is flying by at 100 miles an hour.
I'm tearing straight through a headwind that makes me want
To hold the wheel with my feet and soar out of the sunroof.
But I don't have wings and I can't fly.
So I press my foot down and race death.
.
It's corn, corn, coyotes, and more corn but under the moonlight
And the periodic flashes of approaching lightning
The tall green stalks emit a vibrant, cosmic life
That feeds the fever burning in my blood.
I can hear thunder.
.
Is it coming from the clouds or the engine?
Am I rattling loose the craziness inside me or is my chassis
Threatening to fold, threatening to make origami out of my bones?
Does it matter either way?
I am winning.
.
I have dipped into the clouds, spun around, and started racing back
With shadows on my back tires and raindrops falling
Like saliva from the jaws of a hungry wolf.
My lips are split in a grin, my heart hammering erratically in my chest.
It's coming.
.
I've become a monster jammed in red metal and glass
Galloping across the countryside with screaming sounds
Escaping a busted stereo and smoke
Curling out of the windows like a warning sign.
Unstoppable.
.
Because there is no fear in my chest, not even as the sky growls
And the tires chirp and squeak and slip.
There is nothing inside me but caffeine and b-vitamins and smoke,
The kinds of things that block the light of sanity like an eclipse.
I am starving.
.
And this ride, this deathly thrill is a wonderful meal.
The cigarette is warm between my lips like a feast,
Dripping fat embers against my throat that scar in a way
I look fondly on decades into the future.
A mark of the dreaming monster.
.
I've beaten the storm. The garage door groans shut.
And the cigarette box is stored away, the smell blasted by nighttime air.
All that's left of the night is the shadow at my feet, the burn on my neck,
And the red Monster tab dropped between the seats.
The rain falls.
_____________________________________
Thanks for reading! This is part of a collection of poems I'm working on/a series called "Cigarettes And..." You can read the other two I've published below!
About the Creator
Silver Serpent Books
Writer. Interested in all the rocks people have forgotten to turn over. There are whole worlds under there, you know. Dark ones too, even better.
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Comments (6)
This was a thrilling ride! So vivid! Thank you!
This is such a freeing kind of feeling, you, the wind and green scenery awaiting the fury of the storm. A daredevil living a bit dangerously. Lovely.
Oh man, this really took me for a ride. Can't wait to delve into the rest of the series!
This is great. Felt like I was right there in the car with you.
I just disappeared in this experience of a piece and was shocked to come out on the other side still sitting in my chair drinking coffee. Your poetry is incredibly immersive. Beautiful work!
F#^%*& hell! You're out of control! That was immense. This makes your recent Top Story work sound bush league. This might be best work of yours I've read. I'm working on a poem to submit to the Love Unraveled challenge at the moment, but your work is inspiring me to expand my repertoire and see depths and layers in all sorts of moments in life and use them creatively to explore themes and different ways of expressing ideas and feelings in a less direct / didactic manner.