Orduary

So, looking out the window of the van I notice

the elderly woman in the car next to me is drifting

over into my lane because she is text messaging.

I’m concerned, her tires are grinding into me like

teeth, unified teeth over miles.

I’m not concerned because I can nearly read her message:

Late, lost & old. Can’t figure out how long to wait

to begin spelling again between O & L.

The steel belts under the rubber, or whatever passes

for galvanized has a wring on my mind like a noose

I explain that to you, OK?

I honk and take out my cell and wave it to the closed window,

A/C. the lanes are a dull silver what with all the smoke

from some fires. The future is a dull silver over the air.

the lord is my A/C repair man. I shall not want.

i look at the picture of my daughter on the inside wall

paper of my phone. the future is a war for air & water, you betcha.

I don’t text to any one: nrly klld by LdRly. Holla back, Oh LrD.

Ropes of woven bread, (Know your following) I like a sandwich

in a cool restaurant. the A and the C. the alpha and the chromosome

together in a child’s religion of “nah-uh.”

two paths, one the color of sky, two: the pin down of weaving,

a smoke dance in place of the rain. There’s no other

‘Cause god is lightin’ with his thumbs.