Driving the
Wreck
Belief and experience
careen across expanses of desert together,
such that landscape,
as these two
blow by in your mind’s automobile,
may become whatever desire describes despite
a lifetime of cynical experiences.
Of course, this depends on the color of opaque cloth
dawn down across belief’s sharp eyes and mouth,
as this serves to shield years of trying experience from
knowing better.
Most of us know that dreams dance long,
occupying the stage of
the mind and its labors;
but the
dance and this long drive through the desert
brings a selective amnesia,
and the drive itself casts another shaded,
comely covering, taking both hostage
and landing the jalopy in a borrow-ditch.
Perhaps the spells of beauty, or
love,
or change and hope,
are worth the effort
of pulling the wreck out of the ditch
and moving on;
but this time with old man experience
at your side
and dame belief lolling in the
back.
