A Glaze Over the Eyes

Far away from the Marlboro scent of childhood,

feeling comforted, disoriented

by fleeting glimpses of rural Pennsylvania:

nausea caused by reading,

thirty three grams of carbs.

 

Stretching across sticky leather seats,

 

feeling the movement of memories:

first tastes of mom’s cheap wine, dad’s piss-beer,

dipping finger tips in burning vanilla candles,

headphone dreams while staring out windows.

 

Spiraling like a whirlpool,

 

gazing through the layer of dead bugs on the window;

a rapid breeze, a slap on the cheek

(mom’s smoking a cigarette).

 

Aggressive wind sucks the cheap smoke from

 

stale car interior.

Dilapidated billboards for ‘King of Beers’ passes by

in a grassy sea of

deja vu.

Pressure building behind ears releases from waxy caverns;

a relief and a headache.

 

At Subway a short elderly man with a ball cap and

 

light

blue jeans conversed about

where he came from and where he was going:

he too noticed the rainbow through the clouds.

Biting into tuna sandwich

tasting

diesel fuel and

rubber gloves.

Disgustedly hungry, finishing the meal in seven swift bites.

 

The rolling hills reminiscent of

 

dreams

on a perpetual roller coaster

(a beloved adolescent machine)

velocities and altitudes constantly changing,

inescapable fear of the

heart exploding

from the not-so-amusing ride of unconscious anxiety.

Crying under the sheets of mom’s bed;

the smell of her

sweat

and flashing light of the TV.

A road trip through

dry, November cornfields,

swaying with yesterday.