Thursday, December 07, 2006

lookit...

"Four Generations"
Drifting by
lazy and placated
letting my hand touch the softness new flowers on the roadside
as the car meanders down the familiar dirt road
some chicken crossing...
isn't that funny?
A day that wouldn't end
and too many around speaking tongues and spitting memories
surrounded by everything I know
I feel the darkness like some familiar dream of death
and somehow i'm alone under the glittering stars
wanting to scream but tasting nothing but silence
on my carnation colored lips...
I don't want to be my mother's mother's mother anymore
the one who never lied and lost her only son
I don't want to paint lines up my legs
I don't want to ration coffee
there's so much to waste now...
Back in the car
waving to those little women old and almost gray
a little more hunched over than before
I don't want to get old...
Drifting by
talking myself back into laziness
letting my hand touch the softness of new flowers on the roadside
back down that same familiar dirt road
some chicken crossing...
to get to the other side I suppose

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