Thrown from a lazy susan Onto an icy pond. Illuminated. * * *
I pet my dog, feeling the ridges in his smooth rabbit-like sinew, And imagine his thoughts in the dark interior of my car With only light from the occasional streetlamp To reveal the surreality of his situation, And an occasional crack in the window To let in a flood of aromatic desire Along with the bitter cold. I take curves on the empty road with desperate imprecision Causing the world to shift under him, And he must regain his footing in the dark, But I keep my hand on him tenderly Like a posable sycamore branch With soft, mysterious strength But without scent or face. * * *
A Geo Metro pulls up alongside my car at the red light Before the overpass onto interstate 664. There is a small black boy in an oversized coat Huddled in the back. His face is full of sad wonder As he puts his forehead against the cold window, And stares blankly, Pulling back to look at the moon Higher in the sky. I realize this is a life of drives In Geo Metro’s of different sizesOur bodies, cars . . . Planet All hurtling through cold space, Foreheads pressed to the glass Until they get cold.
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