40 OUT PAST WENTZVILLE,
AND BACK AGAIN
Drifting without rhyme-well, it's a reason-
through this neon galaxy reflecting
fluctuating hues of changing magnitudes
those spinning worlds unto themselves orbited
by satellite wannabes whose frenetic
levity and laughable gravity drive
me out to where the cosmopolitan core
is but a faint pink glow of events along
the eastern horizon while skipping off rims
of dark memories threatening to suck me
in as I listen to the music of the
discs passing faint lights of homes set on
distant
hills and out beyond convenient oases
dispensing snacks and gas and knick knacks
to where
only the faintest glimmers are to be found
of
headlights comet tail wispy in the eyes of
raccoon and cat, dog and deer, opossum and
perhaps
something other if could but tell what stirs
dank
nape hairs, bleeds perspiration through a
tight two-
handed clutch upon the wheel as the car creeps
through a turnaround then picks up speed
as I
return to the center of my current
universe, a collision of dreams with the
uneasy city's slumber, and wary hope
entropy is not all it's cracked up to be
Copyright 2000, Royce Sykes
Royce Sykes lives in the Central West End of St. Louis, MO USA,
a friend of crows (who have chased away the pigeons) and cats (who have
a fine appreciation for shrimp smuggled to them from oriental restaurant
buffets). The panhandlers in the area know him affectionately as "Hey,
you!" His poetry has appeared in Ygdrasil, 2 River View,
Poetry Magazine (online), Snakeskin, and Liberty Grove.
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