white lines slip softly into my eyes clean little white bridges carry me over rivers of sand again and again arid telephone poles perfectly spaced rise and fall with solid waves of road like a picture drawn carefully with tiny fingers up up up goes the hill now the poles over our heads are at our feet and i look down on their horizontal tops lines spun arrow straight so that we can speak words to each other that are soft and sticky and heavy with longing over miles and miles of pale yellow shrubs and fields that remind me of spotted dick i'd never heard that name for food before wind bursts bursts bursts into the car window in staccato episodes that cool the sweat before it's dripped on me on me on me untidy thorn trees entice me make me think of you and the deliciously soft pain you do inflict i see her hair now here before my eyes and marvel at how much further apart she and i have grown further apart than the little hills way over there loping smoothly next to our car the heat is an animal sleeping atop the roof it's holding us hostage it moves sometimes and settles the heavy dry bloodwarm lion we cannot shift from our shoulders the road shifts instead small clouds multiply swiftly to meet us flat bottomed as if they rest heavily on glass above our heads promises of what may lie ahead at home perhaps water from this baby blue canopy can wash the hillocks of the white salt-look and turn it vivid once more and less prehistoric or maybe fresh prehistoric a million birds' nests weigh down bone dry limbs black and charred precariously unbalanced the lonely railway line races us and emerges ahead victorious every single time branches shade anthills solicitously but those brown mounds will retain that timeless unmistakable phallic look each and every single one for aeons hence power structures tower in the sun they are judges bored and slow and silent now occasional seats and tables in cool concrete, ladies and gentleman, for the weary traveler's rest large large large dustbin where body parts were found once i remember cut up in neat chunks a silent glass of amber suds sweats a myriad icy drops brightly i want to drink the billboard i will drink the billboard my throat is wet wet wet
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i wrote this in my head all the while i was in the car on my way home.
