the sky resembles as we move
down a house-crowded urban hill,
some kind of holy/vaulted/orange ceiling.
pink-decked clouds higher than God or I
drift over the smoke & haze of morning life.
the wheels/the people, my mind & I
we move towards
what waits beyond the choirs of honks
& bumpers nudging close for warmth.
it's gone, the mind remarks. he points
to the peach light that moments before
still hid & laughed behind skyscraper
silhouettes: now gone, replaced
by endless noisy blue, steely towers--
you can almost hear the zealots wake
to crucify & deify ideals, I tell the mind.
don't be deceived...the mind yawns
curling up in the folds of my jacket,
a bed some distant/warming thought.
I let him sleep. keep driving.
my mouth bleeds smoke
& thoughts to rise & curl like prayer.
Michael Patrick McSweeney is an artist and educator from the Boston region. His work has appeared in numerous journals and various regions of the Internet thanks to truly wonderful individuals. He is also the founder and chief financial officer of a used submarine conglomerate, the business website of which can be found at discountsubmarines.wordpress.com, and he hopes you have a great day.
