Drive-In Blues

The rabbit in the moon

watches over a field of cars

crunching over telltale gravel,

lit up by blockbusting cinema,

splitting our minds, tearing our hearts,

drying our eyes while the sky

shakes its noble head black,

and the cars rattle with anxiety

and throttle with pleasure and distaste;

plows of smoke fill every makeshift bed,

innumerous with wide-eyed faces

and thick-veined excitement!

The bright lights are in my face.

How I wish that you tonight

could take their place.