Rain on the windshield
The wipers are demons
I listen to how they screech
The car is my outer skin
Where the tire tracks end
I am the soggy shoe of a life
Abandoned by footprints in mud
Body and mind are temporarily separated
Like a distraught couple
Thinking of where to go next

My last passenger wanted to know
What do I do for fun?
I told her I abduct babies
And eat them because
A vegetarian diet isn’t for real men
She told me I should eat her husband
He’s the biggest baby she had ever met

This is where the streets dwindle
Around the abrupt walls
Of a lower east side apartment
All those years as a urinal on wheels
Did have an effect. The piss I transform
To the ink in my pen smears on a page
That retreats from my thoughts
The face in this smear has a sad, tired look
Like someone surviving a war without end
While the bombing goes on
And the dead walk around
In bodies of smoke and debris