Posted by Atticus on July 30, 2004, at 15:00:36
Blowin' Past G.O.D. on Route 280, 1989
Acid-Addled Walter's
Rummaging through
The glove compartment,
Rifling amid greasy
Wendy's wrappers,
Trying to find
An unused paper napkin
So I can wipe
The trickling sweat
From my brow.
Even my spiked coif
Is wilting
In this rolling oven.AC is busted,
Windows are down,
Sucking in molten
Blasts of air
So thick
With carbon monoxide
That I
Can almost
Chew them.Junker's shimmying,
Its alignment
And suspension
Shot,
Leaving a trail
Of rusty scales
In its wake
Like a mechanical
Leper.Can't complain, though,
Because
Temple lent us
Her '72 harvest-gold
Chevy behemoth
Of indeterminate
Subspecies
For the cost
Of the gas
We're burning.Now we're galloping
Toward the Holland Tunnel,
Toward home.
And all
We need to do
Is to get
This piece of crap
Back to her place
In Brooklyn
Intact.Tokin' Tiny Tim
Is packing a bowl
In the steamy
Back seat,
Mumbling curses
As the weed
Clings to his moist,
Chubby fingers.
And for three
18 year olds
Life doesn't
Exactly suck
At the moment.Acid-Addled Walter
Can't drive,
Hates
To leave the city,
So he never
Got a license.
But now his dad
Lives in the burbs
With his step-mom,
So we ventured
Into the wastelands
For a visit,
With me
In the cockpit
And Walter
The wing commander.Richard Hell
And the Voidoids
Are screaming
"Love Comes in Spurts"
From the cassette deck,
The car's sole concession
To luxury,
When the white
Cargo container
Dragging
Behind the truck cab
Comes into view
Ahead
On the six-lane purgatory
Known as Route 280.Emblazoned on the side
Of the 18-wheeler,
Ten-foot tall
Black letters
Outlined in red
Say G.O.D.
And if it's Him
Behind the wheel,
He's sure
A shi**y driver,
Can't seem to stay
In his lane,
Which explains a lot
About the way
The universe
Seems to work.Tokin' Tiny Tim's
Getting nervous,
Says I'm going
Too fast,
And the rear axle's
Gonna tear off
From the drive shaft
If I don't
Ease up.
I ask,
"Aren't you high yet?"
Hoping the grass
Will chill him out
But it's never
Done the trick yet.
I don't know why
He even bothers.The G.O.D. truck
Rumbles along
In the adjacent lane,
And I theorize
That the Big Kahuna
Has been disassembled,
And a million trucks
Just like this
Are carrying the bits
Along roads
All over
The planet.
An eyelash here.
A hangnail there.
But one day
They'll all gather
In a field
Near someplace
Like Kansas
And put Him
Back together
And then the sh**
Will hit the fan
Because He'll be so pissed
When He sees
How the human race
Turned out."So who's driving?"
Asks Walter.
"Angels," I opine.
Then I spy
The small letters
Crouched
Beneath "G.O.D"
Spelling
"Guaranteed Overnight Delivery"
And let out a sigh."Another false prophet,"
I mutter,
And slam the pedal
To the floor,
Blowing past G.O.D.
Like He
Was standing still,
And thinking,
If that really
Was Him,
That little stunt
Is probably
Gonna cost me bigtime
Someday.
-- Atticus
poster:Atticus
thread:372417
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20040729/msgs/372417.html