Falling out of a Ford Galaxie at 40 mph on a hairpin turn

Wanting nothing, watch this, old man, matchbooks and habits,
washing machine, bald tires
(you're especially fond of old, bald tires)

                                & look up into yr
casual beliefs, blankets, bag of
popcorn, bag of chicken, bag of
             tootsie rolls, dark-blue     dark-brown     old man socks

the sound of yr shoe in rain, the squelch
on, hum                    something maybe native, something
within the cells          the dryer lint, and a receipt for pepperoni

             the list caught     left-right     left-right                  & our DNA is what
is the racket          like the special way that
you don't approve of music               or treat the mail nice
to see who's taken what               or thrust what

                                                              or hold that
I feel yr pants pocket slipping
& so

*

we say it gets
ugly, you'll say
                                   but still you'd like to take that road out
                                 in yr gum blue truck and buy

                                          (the list, mama)
                                                                              watermelon, pickles
                                                                                                        ice cream
                                                                                 Henry Ford,
                                                                            and the cat with trees
kids glove
pistoleras
give the butcher some money

(boucher)

how nice

anyway

it's so harrowing harrowing harrowing

*

now get the fuck out


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postscript: remedial like a picnic

the sign said $300 fine for dumping & so what. the idea of flat rocks reduced to stream fodder, the idea of 'mill' given to old baptisms & weird hymns sung until labor day. the idea that in a minute there's nobody where the men were. & the girl wasn't yr problem. though nobody wanted to see her, you wanted to pull her out & pull on the eye-shadow & the lipstick. & make her & then take that tube o that aimless slim thing in yr hand & wave yr flag: o good boy.