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savannah66
Posts: 65
I posted an earlier version of this poem what seems like ages ago. It has been through several revisions, but I'm kinda stuck, and it doesn't feel finished. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated...
thanks!
Guilt, Trip (liquefaction)
I dream in black and white,
try to turn over, it starts.
One lurch, two, wheezing thoughts come
on an empty ride to hospital;
the car hums noisily against my thighs,
the shuddering gears slip,
the north wind blows the moon over the horizon.
I blink, think
as long as your liquid eyes hold the road
I’ll make it, make it back
one piece at a time.
Morning finds me naked, shivering.
Hard to believe it’s been
four months now,
with only two full weeks of sunshine.
Outside, you curse the car
we should never have driven to Hershey.
I draw the outline in chalk;
you hit me, of course it’s not a joke
the tranny’s dead, I cost you another car.
My conscience is a dilettante, no excuses.
Last night I dreamed
we were walking in Carmel
with no shoes on,
in a gallery where the photographs
peeled off albino walls,
waiting and naked like a woman.
I was jealous of the green shirt
you wore, knowing it was my favorite color,
wearing it better than I will ever wear
my countenance.
I’ll run until I’m exonerated.
thanks!
Guilt, Trip (liquefaction)
I dream in black and white,
try to turn over, it starts.
One lurch, two, wheezing thoughts come
on an empty ride to hospital;
the car hums noisily against my thighs,
the shuddering gears slip,
the north wind blows the moon over the horizon.
I blink, think
as long as your liquid eyes hold the road
I’ll make it, make it back
one piece at a time.
Morning finds me naked, shivering.
Hard to believe it’s been
four months now,
with only two full weeks of sunshine.
Outside, you curse the car
we should never have driven to Hershey.
I draw the outline in chalk;
you hit me, of course it’s not a joke
the tranny’s dead, I cost you another car.
My conscience is a dilettante, no excuses.
Last night I dreamed
we were walking in Carmel
with no shoes on,
in a gallery where the photographs
peeled off albino walls,
waiting and naked like a woman.
I was jealous of the green shirt
you wore, knowing it was my favorite color,
wearing it better than I will ever wear
my countenance.
I’ll run until I’m exonerated.
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
where are you trying to take it?
to me, it's a sad trip to the hospital
a sad trip to hershey
a sad trip to a museum in carmel
i suppose you can tie them all together and make some sweeping statement about the trips taken with this person... you know, pass judgement on the situation...