Streamlines

A meeting rumbles in the back
room. I could be
one of them. But

I like my margin
where I can hitchhike
rides to dark dreams

and musings
about collocating
my secrets with old

punk gods. I could delve
into euphoric recall

from a passenger
side high in a flying

coffin. Repentance. It was those
black leather police
jackets that got very cool.

Blind Pouch

An old air
stream on a newly paved
driveway, a red pickup
like the one I imagined

I would own
one day. Still unlicensed
and not ready

to relinquish
sidewalks, I hug

the side of the road
and think
of the mystery
left in this escape.