An explosive sizzle over the tarmac,
through the cracks in the windscreen
that spread like invisible spider webs;
the highway snakes through the hailstones,
and disappears behind another hill.
Townes’ voice is thirsty on the FM,
the eyes in the rear-view lost, doodled-upon road maps
clichéd with a last sip of Cabernet Sauvignon;
the driver leans over, pops the cubbyhole
and yet another pink pill.
Telephone wires vibrate as if ocean ripples,
ravens’ last cries create a black tsunami;
they ‘part the sea’ for the speeding hearse,
and cast cancer-shadows over the land
with each flap of their wings.
words by Ramon Ramirez