to drive, or be driven,
for miles and miles is
the cost of an ounce
of leisure. an acreage
of fumes for a lazy
sunday afternoon.
the crowd is beautiful
for this. watch the ball
spiral, a passing
complete. spectacles
of red, blue, and white.
the surge and pulse
of the throng. your body
follows the motions of
the freeway, catapulting
across lanes. there is no
eternity and no end. sunlight
is good only for rattling the cold
air. if you understand
delusion you will understand
the blood and the oil
and the trash and the rage
and america.