Once

Once

I was stretched out

on a lazy boy recliner

in my sister's clammy basement

looking in the rearview mirror

at all of my regret, shame

and hysterical foolishness

streaming out behind me 

in a steady white line of lies.

"If there's a justice in this world...

hey, how about that?"

the stereo commented.

"You're just dirt."

I saw all my worth summed up 

in an endless stupid stream of ribbon

uninterrupted in its pursuit

of someone running in fear

hunched up as if teeth were snapping

eternally at exposed haunches.

Once

I was driving up the interstate

hauling corroded alkaline batteries

to the hazardous waste smelter.

The muscles in my neck shook with exhaustion.

My fingers felt like dumb lead sinkers.

Cars flowed past me like platelets floating through an asphalt vein.

I watched that endless white line

running out behind the wing mirror.

I don't know how many miles passed

before I recognized my defeated face

staring straight into the loathsome magnets

of my tired eyes.

Once

I saw myself

moving along

wanting to stand still

going nowhere.