Filibuster

Sounds like Dort Highway

Like a baseball hitting a garage for a year

Like a car once every 3 minutes for 4 hours

4 months past 28 years

Never ending descending light

Infinite jest into infinite gift

Better you decide then not

All aught

Chatter from the beach head smells of rain and fallen tears hungry against the past dusk feed

M18

All those solid yellow lines lead to fields of

Indian crossed legs sitting up all night with

Or with

Or without

The passenger has a fever and is perspiring as we pull in for gas again

From here its sickness and bliss until we hit another state and rest for 3 days of wet sheet shakes

The balance is objecting with overrides

The horizon splits as the moon dances up a wolves spine and messages from a collapsed lung whisper let them in, they want to be your friend. Its all a big joke to some pantheon of actors gilded as a nail drove past its stud. There are moments when my hands burn like ears in winter and I let you win. I am not, you are echoes until a wave drowns itself and a rock splits forth merged without force. Be careful what you wish for you just might get it is playing on the radio as the lights strobe me back to a catalog ad. The backseat is littered with empty soda cans and straw rappers. It smells like October and cigarettes, cold and forlorn. Barns throw red rust dust into a pike spent river. Fisheries spring up with subsidies. Cows eat grass and stare at them like they expect to be bludgeoned. They only pat their backs and say "not yet" as the tale whips feces and flies, ingenuity on display. Electric fences hem them in. Grain, hey and salt licks before your last years abroad in the field of study. Free range gets an extra couple of bucks but costs money for the stamps of solidarity. Vegans climb trees and abandon deodorant. Clown fish live in bleached coral for contrast. You get to have it all so we can see your thoughts about it. We want you to realize your worth. The finish line just abandoned him half way through his thing and told him to start over. Fever dreams from the front seat end with Collins belting about the air in the night again, or a California Hotel, I can't decide which one fits better. The catalog has cologne samples that all smell the same. Models in canary yellow hats tell you they smell like this. What should I do with that information? Two states to go and the wind is whistling Dixie. I used to think I liked the way that saying sounded, the phrase that is. It has a ring. Nowadays I almost delete it and throw my computer in a river.

Pebbles prod the wheels of change in our fever driven automobile. The passenger is drinking sunny delight and eating funyuns. Corn, cornmeal, maize lines break in the road and we sweep past another 18 wheeler. The speakers are bumping Filibuster, Pale Writer. That gets me through it a little better. Kudos for your never ending brilliance. We lurch into the driveway and I'm only 3 hours across the state away from being home. It has been a year. Thank you Jay Barch