Sad Aberdeen Drive

Poem Info
Existential blousy haiku
557 words
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Wind blows around the
Contrite
Fire engine red 96 Nissan
Carrying the 50 year old man
And his anxious girl
Of 32
His mind failing to be engorged with the blood
Of much of a thought except to keep those hands on 10 and 2
And chivvy to the next destination
And the Aberdeen
Wind
Declares as it lightly spanks the truck
Nothing is lonelier than a car or truck
With a woman passenger in it
Slicing the silence
And this one the Nissan silence
with
Her cold matter-of-fact
Directions and speed limit
Reminders
The 50 year old man
Wants
To drop out of life
And I mean really
Drop out
But he doesn’t know how
His soul is being raped
More every day
Challenged by limited saratonin
And disgust
And
The inevitability
Of ten more months
In a prison-like work encampment situation
In a distant land
“The Speed limit is 35”
She says
More detached
Than the nicotine rasp
Pf tje GPS
Plug-in
Woman
Breaking his sad Nissan truck
Reverie
His vehicle having
Breathed only a cantering 25 mph
Over an Aberdeen asphault
With a faint touch of annoyance
She, the pink-tinged haired girl,
Wants to get home
Stare in the green sliver-eyes of her cat
Stoned and pliable from the residual
Weed dabs
It’s another awkward car glide
The next destination of the car
Looms
With the moon as
The destiny
The driver
The evening
Sings TV
And pot
And the driver
says “Okay okay “
Flat-toned dull
Doesn’t stand a
Chance
At being suave
Speed the engine up
Cold hands
heavy sneakered foot pushing the accelerator
There is no fingering in the car
No car passion this summer
There is only
“Go”
and
“Turn”
And
Speed limits
I wonder
if William Faulkner
Or DH Lawrence
Or Nietze
Would have been able to create
Anything had they had a number of similar
Drives
Molesting the brain
No suave one-hand and wry Robert Mitchum
Observations
Honey
I can’t tango with that anymore
Just point the car
And go home, baby
Go home
And the Nissan
Scratches the night
Used coffee cups
Shuddering at her feet
“You were a bed hog last night
As usual”
She utters
Not without acridity
“And how come I was the one last night how made the
fort in my room
hammered the nails
Hung up the sheets and
jammed in the pushpins
Made my toes bleed from the rogue ones on the floor
And tauted the sheets
While you sat on the sofa
slamming on the writing machine
Harder than you fuck me . “
And her fort
was brilliant
In his dreams
Crashing on the open seas
amid headless
Sea snakes
“You ate half my body- high edible chocolate”
She scolded
and
It the icy Nissan ride
Continued
But somehow the love cut through
that and hovered
Anyhow
And they halted in front of the house on Market Street
And vegged on
Games and movies
Under the billowy
Sheet fort
with the hues of green and white bliss
in the non-descript little house on Market Street
It was a sad drive
But the couple was home
and crawled into their tent against the world
and cuddled, dabbed, and chuckled at the t.v.
The 7-11 is within stumble-distance
The evening gets as cold
As the car drive that got us there

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