my company is mine
and we drink black coffee and pick apart
the teevee news in highway diners--
we scoff--
we sit silently smoking cigarettes
exhaling ash
from the half sunk side window of an economy car
in time to the music of a melting generation,
stressed and obsessed with their
recession babies and mayan prophecies--
elections, wars and reality.
we don't abide the ignorant
the religious or the loud,
anyone with their head in the clouds,
the mouthy smiles encased in waste,
the whispering midgets of social circles,
or the nonsense of the state.
we slam ourselves against the textures
of the world,
see the landscape folded up and regenerated--
hoping for the dawn of eyes wide open
the beginning of a dying age.
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