Brian Spears

Poet, Editor, Teacher, Blogger.

Something I’ve been working on lately.

Since I haven’t posted in a while.

Accord
-after Stephen Dunn

My car a chrysalis, metallic blue,
patches of peeling clear-coat,
home-tinted windows rolling
at the edges, but mine, my sacred
place. I ate and drank there, parked
under trees, windows down, key
on ACC so the tape player
would take me to places too cool
for radio to know, bucket seat
my La-Z-Boy. Even the name,
Accord, was peaceful, the machine
a link to a land I would never see
but might if I was willing to drive
far enough, freedom bound only
by the miles of roads unknown.
At night, on roads bounded by pine trees
and what lived in them, limned by moon
and stars and low-beams, wind-rush
over the side-view mirror up a sleeve
pulls shirt away from skin, wind
glorious in the hair and the crickets
and frogs loud in the dark I could
almost taste life free of church
and family and duty and job,
a heart hungry to sleep free
of tugs and unfulfilled potential.

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October 18, 2008 - Posted by | Accord

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