10-wheeler

Once a truck that screamed of the devil’s laughter that shook the stillness of hills, the exactness of the breeze to docile leaves and bending sunflowers, the distance between the skyline and your empty gaze out my window. Once my engine flames melted metal and material,

surged fiercer to the dark chasms of your mind running on rotors,
gone mechanical and maniacal with the irreverent revving I make
on summer-seared concrete. Once we sped past the hallucination

brought by this mirage, this fleeting chapter of gas and water where we saw
the end:

the world crashing into a mammoth wall
men built to secure their secrets
—instantly, the Earth as a wrecking ball
with a mood angry as me beating the red light.

On this day we remember the tracks left by kindred monsters without brakes.
On this day we shoot the road signs with our eyes closed.
On this day we discover the pain in the puddles of yesterday’s rain.
There will be more to the rolling of 10 wheels raging,

skid marks and all,
on this day. Give way.

Beep! Beep! I’m coming. I’m raging, 10 wheels, more miles and counting.
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
Watch me. I’m burning gasoline and gaining torque from this road’s
tarmac thrill. Beep! Beep!

I’m coming. 500 kilometers per hour. 501… 502…
I’m coming. Past the murky wilderness, past the children flying kites,
past the lone haystack where many a lover fucked when their cars lost gas.
And they never did lose gas. Neither will I. Because—

I’m coming. All the way from North to South,
demolishing anything that comes my way. Diesel power, my new order. I’m coming.
Irresponsibly. Down your avenue,

polluting the wind,

ruining the road,

crashing your gates,

coming,

coming to terms,


offering you one last ride.