my automobile
I drive my automobilepast the trees, making my own breeze
my fingers cut through
I make my own road
what's beyond the door
can the feet stand on the path
the road to somewhere else
my automobile is red
through the windows I look to see
what else is coming down
it's all a metaphor you know
the road the car the breeze
ruffling the bushes
flipping petals off their flowers
rubbing the road with the rubber
all I know is what I have experienced
is that all I need to know
what's on the outside
of the door.
unlock the doors
walk on the grass
feel the pre-existing breeze
someone else's fingers in the trees
posted by Heather @ 8:17 AM
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