The Loneliness of the Car is On-going

The loneliness of the Car is on-going,
not like reading a newspaper
where things seem to end.

I sit inside the Car
behind the wheel. Its
life can be felt here in
this seat.
But with limitations.
If I talk to you
something different happens,
subtle or not.
But here in this space
looking out on the road
it feels like my eye. My
eye does this one thing.
Continually.
Only this one thing.
Focusing.
Meanwhile I do the
looking. The Car is
like this. It carries,
I travel.

In it's loneliness the Car
craves my voice. It wants
to be soothed. But I look
over it or through it. I absent
myself from its heart. It sits
in the rain, the snow, the
hot sun, and waits for me.
It is not going anywhere
until I engage it.
What does all this mean?
I wonder as I stare at the
Red dash lights.
How can I bring this form
into my arms?
If I close my eyes the
Inside of the Car seems
a dark blue in the evening
light. When I open them
it has no color. Just darkness.
It is peaceful, like bread,
here in the Car. I fill
the Car while the Car
takes me in. It seems
I am everywhere in the Car,
in a way that is necessary.
The Car is obligated to let
me have these thoughts:
that I am driving, that
I am going somewhere,
and there is no Car.

07/02/2009