14/52: tanker truck dream

I'm driving my tanker truck through town -
a short one, just 10 wheels -
the hoses neatly rolled on the back, thick
and heavy,
the stainless steel nozzle locked to the side.

You could mistake me for an oil man
delivering liquid heat
for dark nights when the neighbors' houses
seem a thousand miles away
across a tundra of unshoveled snow
but that's not me -
not what I'm doing.

I've got a tank full of soul,
I've got bottled light -
follow me down to the Square
I'm going to unroll my hoses
and fill the fountain
with song

a geiser ablaze in color will burst forth,
the pennies and nickels
will transform into streaks
of silver and gold
rushing through the air
between the mid-day shoppers
and the hipsters drinking coffee
on Main Street

Yeah, yeah, yeah!
I'll shout, right hand squeezing the trigger
to keep it all flowing,
left hand waving wildly in the air

but you'll know what I mean
when you see me in my white overalls.

there'll be someone that says
damn fool
but we'll ignore him or her

till the tank runs dry