Thursday, May 22, 2008

The Blue Cup

The Blue Cup

I get these thoughts in angles
When he’s driving

The blue plastic cup rattled on the dash
Everything is solid now and hard

And even the radio has a spine
His life is what we’re driving around

secrecy

And I remember his face
The last time I saw where we’re driving to

He has learned to sleep beside what doesn’t love him,
Curled up in a ball, forcing out sex and youth

Around an hour now gone and this is life
With all the dulls, build up, to an enduring height

We’re traveling through faces
And time, right now, as we speak

Involving with traces of then
Closing to the arrangement of now

He could've be a father or my father
And I would've respected him

Maybe, just because he thinks it’s important
And he was famous one day or one life

Lost in that direction of fame
Winter, noon, the southern sides of states of mind

And houses looking at us in all their shades of mood
And windows handling the sun like the surface of water

We know where we’re going
Someplace that will keep us without questions
Somewhere that will forgive us for moments we let pass

A blind spot with a roof overhead
A sympathetic destination
An afterlife, where we live