today is just another day,
said General Consensus.
today is windy. just enough so you can stand still
and still have some movement.
today is lived-in anticipation
for tonight. the vacuum before,
the doldrums in the ebb and flow
of traffic patterns. We could lay in the street
if we wanted to, and feel the rough surface
of hot concrete soak through our shirts and into our skin.
We'll smell the traces of oil, gasoline, antifreeze,
staring off past tire tracks, into the sun. we'll smell the
Wind,
blowing through nicotine-soaked hair,
that greasy, oily scent that makes you feel
alive
and want to vomit at the same time.
We can't show up early, can we?
and sit around while our barely-friends get ready,
shower, brush their teeth, make beer runs and
just generally get in the way. No
We find a pool, unguarded
'cept for a fence.
We can jump it.
And we can swim, too, in the forbidden water
long reclaimed by flora and fauna,
slip sundrenched legs into liquid calm
depths unplumbed for who-knows how long,
smiling silently like the children
we are.
Tonight, we'll blind drive our way through crowds
and cloudy headwinds will blow us
off course,
to land just south of borderline,
scraped and scuffed up, but as-of-yet
unbroken.
Tomorrow we'll vomit neon color all over your mother's sofa.
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Submission Name: The Doldrums
