October 23, 2009

dialogue of faith and highway

by Derek Richards

thumbs are broken
hitch-hiking blind the night it rained
boulders on a hazy highway
south of the city

intimate conversations
with a bottle of Nightrain
and a gypsy moth
lost for a hiccup of thought
or a heavy quilt
of spiritual progress

someday i'm going to find a front door
fitting the key in my pocket
the girl of my dreams
no growling dogs
no angry fence
let's turn up the heat, honey,
it's so cold out there
brown eyes

\back is broken
carrying dense fragments of fallen universe
up and down senseless hills
waiting for the sunrise
praying away cages
dancing along the yellow line with a limp
and an aggravated faith

someday i'm going to breathe softly
read a book before bed
light a room of passive candles
quit smoking
eat a meal on clean dishes and wash
the filthy vodka down the sink
let's go to bed, honey,
we've both got to work tomorrow
simple lips

there's a truck slowing down up ahead
feels like rain
my throat is an ache of cheap wine
and buried apologies
i'm going home
the truck stops and an old man waves
me inside where you going, son?


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