i found a red light that turned to green
the moment i sped past
that hour’s train thundered above as
i threatened the glossy paint
against the stone trestle
of the railroad bridge
the fog of thinking dissolved on that
cold road as I watched it
consumed underneath,
seventy miles per hour
pulling the yellow snake
across the black
i thought about abbreviations
the way you squeeze otherwise respectable words
as you punch out the order for a classified
i had listed it all for sale,
this car, without purpose, was last,
1owr hi-MPG turbo for $10,6
82k, all pwr, no accd., neg.
my mind pretended to dwell on boarding passes, mail forwarding
or the curious way that envelopes taste if you lick them
but her recent words stilll rang in my mind
a yellow sign blinked by
rating the road for twenty
i spun the wheel on a mountain turn
to feel a leap of fear
in my deadened heart
the tires, liberated by physics
spun against grass and gravel and grace
our mass rose up against the ground,
listing with the curve
strangely,
life didn’t slow
the tires regained the asphalt
the wheels shook
the rendezvous was called off
the smallest of things held
i thought perhaps i should treat this machine better
this diesel breathing woman was
the only love in my short life
who hadn’t betrayed me
colored lights appeared behind
brighter than resurrection
a man of authority emerged from the blinding scene
an hour dissolved under his footsteps
he asked questions a philosopher would fear
“why, how”
i did not know. the lucid moments against god had passed
all i had was my fragmented reality
somehow i escaped that moment
i escaped responsibility,
turned the key to roar away
some dozen miles later,
i found my temporary home
i sat there
listening to the crinkling of the cooling engine
as frost climbed the glass
and thought about
life, a little
but mostly,
the mundane,
the transfer of title tags & registration
Recovery
It sounds like the machine is well built and I hope there is total recovery from it’s near desaster or the scare of the rough ride. Wonderful reading here - Thanks
Steering
Thank you for reading!
Crazily enough it’s perfectly fine, though the steering gives me an epileptic shake now and then. I have to get that fixed
-A
Andrew.
Seems like you were writing about more than just a car. Because I think you were, this makes it an even better poem. Thanks for sharing.
One last cryptic remark for you: The one imutable law of the universe is….Nothing is forever. All things, situations change.
Including the “Car” we are driving.
All My Best!
-David
California is proof that Hell is full, and the Dead walk the streets.
I borrow someone's car
and I’m always putting fuel in it lol
Title
I wa looking at the latest work page and instantly was drawn to “diesel brething”. Thats the sort of catchy name every good pem should have. I will be back to read the poem it’s self a few more times before I can make any real constuctive comments. So far I have enjoyed the paragraph 6th from the end most, its the thought I can relate with most. Betrayal.
Yeh, will be back to read some more.
(hopeless) Joey Cunningham Lennox
Bien.
Hmm…that was freakin amazing. Nothing profound, tired and late, but wow…did not expect that.
Thanks for the read
-Brit
This!
… is friggin’ wonderful!
humor in poetry
as she oughta be
Thanx.
Regards,
Appreciative Chuckles
thrown down
been through the car crashs
the rollovers
clipped fenders
and that almost going over
and down the embankment
cruel cockpits
instruments and dash
radio or silence
last moments
as the world spins
like the old carny screeching
rides
the felt feeling tickets
torn in half
ragged metal dissolving
glass melting like candy floss
roar of mortality clutching
your poem has brought it all back
havent driven in years now
eplipeptic condition
but i still love cars
trucks planes and trains
..O..
ROTF
Sounds like for a moment ya went crazy there Andrew. How else could ya escape responsibility? This poem gets better every time I think about it. Been thinking about it since you updated it :)
Mark
I am so pleased I got to
I am so pleased I got to read this at long last. Andrew this is great. I love these lines
an hour dissolved under his footsteps
he asked questions a philosopher would fear
“why, how”
i did not know. the lucid moments against god had passed
all i had was my fragmented reality
Kaz
It’s impossible to smile on the outside without feeling better on the inside.
What a ride
Barbara Writes
My dad name me wild bill when he first taught me to drive.
can’t seem to get the lead out of my foot lol
Glad you went back to this
it gave me the opportunity to enjoy your writing.
Damn! I still love this,
but can’t find how to compare revisions. Am I being techno-dumb again?
Either my memory fails me or this has quite a lot more emotional grunt than the original.
cheers,
Jess
Andrew
Excellent write. Humor and seriousness and a terrifying scene. Are you sure you didn’t resurect Alfred Hitchcock? Reminds me once I ran a redlight at 4 AM. I saw the county cop, the city cop and the state cop sitting and talking. The light turned red and I breezed right on through. Realized what I had done, pulled over and was standing at the back of the car with license, insurance and registration in hand when they got there. All three were laughing like crazy and asked, Didn’t you see us? I said yep and I went right through it, don’t ask me why. They were laughing so hard they said be more careful and get outta here. Ah well, strange things happen.
Respectfully,
Rett:
“We can all be thankful that Picasso wasn’t a plastic surgeon.” Rett
Just gets better, Andrew
You working on that first line?
It works smooth but went back to think it out red green - green red YELLOW lol
yellow light red and I sped past
only saw green mind was up my ass
LOL it don’t fit (the rest of the poem) ROFL but anyway it is a consistant movement a great story to read.
Man thinks this.
Mark
Y'know...
I just visited yours and Paul’s profiles for the first time since being a member here. Boy have I missed out on some good stuff!
This brought back memories of flying up the Taconic State Parkway (I’m sure you know of it) in the wee hours of the morning, coming home from work. Feeling strangely liberated - just like you mentioned. Those mountain turns you mention sound an awful lot like the ones coming down off Mohonk Mnt. in Ulster Co. There’s a hairpin 10mph 90 degree bugger about halfway up. Don’t try that sucker in the winter!
In some ways, I sorely miss NY. Glad to be returning to it in some ways, and dreading it in others. Loved this write, and can’t believe it’s taken me this long to find it.
~Jess K.
—————————————————-
- “Everyone needs believe in something. I believe I’ll have another beer!”
- “Constipated people don’t give a shit…”
Andrew,
A philosopher might fear, now that was cool, I’ve been in that position.
excellent write, it had it all.
Thanks,
Eddie