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

13/52: possible

I'm on again, off again
on the whole subject of mortality.

I mean

they say everyone's got to die eventually
and on Tuesdays
that sounds perfectly reasonable.

But today is Friday.
and the ironcladness of that statement -
the rigidity of thought behind it -
the sheer conservative dogma -
generation after generation just giving in -

come on, people!

let's make pizza from scratch tonight
we'll have flour on our hands and pants
the sauce on the stove will fill the house
with the aroma of basil and tomato -

let's take our glasses of cabernet
out onto the patio and watch
the airplanes fly overhead - lights blinking.
We'll contemplate the fact
that they said man wasn't meant to fly.

11/52: and in the night

and in the night
I am on my toes
going from room to room
like a sneaky ballerina
(really, is there another kind?)

people are sleeping
and only the moon sees me
come and go -

we share the secrets of the near dark
these are the secrets that are knowable
if you are awake
when everyone else has drifted off

10/52: winter's fist

winter's fist is melting open
fingers suddenly loose
we can begin to wriggle free
and breathe.

8/52: when I think of you

of the things you said,
only the final words remain.

do you remember records?
do you remember how
the concentric circles could look uninterrupted
and you could be playing one
with only the slightest hiss over the hifi
grooving to a song about love
or forever
or how even the nights were better

when suddenly the needle
would get caught on this hidden pit
you completely missed before
and the sound would go
from sweet
to ear knives?

nothing could get you to listen
to that record again.
the memory of that moment
stares at you with gouged out eyes
and you want to forget all of it.

you long for DJ Charon
and the smooth water tracks of Styx
to wipe away not just the last moment
but all of it.

and that's what I want
when I think of you.
to sell our record to some hipster
who doesn't actually listen to vinyl
but has a wall full of them
to show his friends.

5/52: refrain

what are the dimensions
of a man's life?

you think you have the measure,
you think you are ready to cut

but the pattern is not so discernible,
the length of the string not so absolute.

you are just one man
and the Greeks believed it took three Gods
to spin, apportion, and sever.

6/52: I'll try again

The only thing is
to be able to make sure
you save any questions about
your experience.

I'm sure that you can also use
a different post
to show up in my mind.

I'm sure you have to be able
to make a decision.

I'm sure you get the latest version of the day.

I'm not sure if I can see the full story
of my life.

The first time
I had the opportunity. 

Please note that you are not
an option for the next day. 

I'm not going anywhere
for more than a year,
I will not be able to make it.

The other hand is

a good idea.

I'll try again.

**

 

Sent from my Verizon Wireless 4G LTE smartphone

the entire text was generated using text suggestions provided by  my phone. I'd wanted to try this for a while. It seems like Austin Kleon's black out poetry.