Favilla and I (Part 7)

The Three - Section A

She….
Pulls down the shades
Wipes the black from flushed cheeks
Exits….
Miracles etched out on wrist
Newspaper lying idle at the door
I start the engine
Press on the gas
Gripping the steering wheel I spit
Into the eyes of the Utah highway
Steady is the rape of the breeze
Carrying ashes into a dream
Prickly Pear Cacti are Mousai
Dancing for Apollo’s favor
(as the river flows)
Favilla hikes up her skirt….
Taking my dry and shaking hands
Summons the parting of nomenclatures
Flavors the pain with honest sin
She screams like the dying desert hare
Tearing into the upholstery
Incisors drawing forth a moan
As I shed a now lost child’s tear
God does not exist in here
That sad old man back at the rest area
Shoes sworn into a lonely journey
Parallel to my corrupted reality…….
Favilla wipes the black from flushed cheeks
And smiles………

Advertisements

~ by ryantyrl on February 2, 2010.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: