For Father Luke, thanks for pointing the way.
JALOPIES
jeff jewett
THE OLD PLAYGROUND
I went to my elementary school.
The old playground was in the same spot but had been remodeled.
The old playground.
As an adult, I too have been remodeled.
We stood there in the night regarding one another.
I remembered playing in the sand. I remembered my first fight.
Climbing the fence to leave, I heard the clink-clink-clink of a chain
that hung from a tetherball pole.
My old playground at the elementary school, it too remembered.
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LITTLE BLACK CURSOR
I click on start new topic. Subject: I leave it blank.
Little Black Cursor, blinking, waiting...white space listening,
wanting.
Little Black Cursor pumps, it pumps. It is prepared to leave behind
codes from my thoughts like a trail of crumbs from my consciousness.
Little Black Cursor, a God in this world of white. Nothing comes
before it, ever. It pumps. It must. Everything that gives birth
pumps.
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HIT THE STAGE
I hit the stage. This stuff will put you on the streets. I feel like
****. I need another hit.
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JALOPY
I'm on a desert road with my thumb out. I don't care where I end up.
I need a ride as far as that ride will take me.
Here comes a bad memory. I put my thumb down.
Look at the exhaust that thing puts out. Choking, I let the jalopy
pass and spit out the knot stuck in my throat.
Here comes something funny. I put my thumb down.
Can't be that funny, its moving too slow; but I got a good look. Next
time.
A long, long time I have walked this road with my thumb out. In all
the time I have hitched, I have been followed.
The windows are tinted, and it creeps far enough in the distance where
I cannot see the model.
I don't care where I end up. When that one picks me up, it'll take me
all the way.
jeffreyjewettcopyright2007
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