So I finally figured out how to format this correctly with Kinja, which makes me happy. I wrote this last summer and it wound up getting published a few months ago. I thought I would share with everybody.

Driving Through the Desert Without AC

The road screams in pain as I drive across its face.
The midday sun only makes things worse—the asphalt
Burns with those wavy lines like on the machine in the bathroom
Where you push a button and get warm air instead of bacon.

It’s hot is what I’m getting at.

All around…. Well, you know how it is in the desert.
The sky is open, not even a cloud to break the monotonous
Blue, nor a tree or even a cactus to island the sea of sand.
There’s just me and the sun and the street and I wish that
The one would go away and the other shut up because
I can’t even think my brain’s shielding itself so.

Just a bit distracted, really.

And it’s disgusting how such emptiness, this paucity
Of idea and feeling, this lack of beauty that won’t even grant
Me the displeasure of ugliness, how absolute solitude
And emptiness, how nothingness can be so distracting.

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‘Can’t make something from nothing’ they always say.
‘That’s why you’re wrong’ they always smile that same stupid smile
That self-satisfied smirk that suggests they said something smart.

Well who just created something from nothing
And found that the something is loathsome!
I wish I could just wash it all away, clear it out and start over.
My car can be my ark, the S.S. Ford Taurus with a pony on the dashboard,
Two of every thing: two blankets, two gloves, two tires, two shirts—
Except there’s only one iPod, because the apple is unclean
And will only bring sin.

And with all that at least if my mind unfocused
It would have a reason I could respect.
But all I have is the sun and the street and the
Bacon lines in the air and I don’t even know
What I was doing or thinking before because
My noodle’s fried, the oasis of imagination
Has dried up and gone back to the desert as all things must.