Within the ghostly depths of the microwave
grew a tree,
its branches reaching farther and growing stronger
than an old battery in a coffee mug.
Indeed, the drawer had been flung wide open
and inside one could see
a petroleum factory.
Well, if the shoe fits, I thought,
but then this shoe contained
a full-length breathing apparatus,
and a garden hose.
Putting my hand in my pocket
and removing my car,
I took off for Dixie,
leaving behind a trail of mixed memories.
The matchbox on the dashboard
held a regiment of the king’s infantry,
but no one thinks of such things on a Saturday.
My wallet was empty,
save for the spare gas tank,
and I hoped I would have enough to reach Cleveland.
“Give me a sign!”
I said to the man at the station,
but he just took off like a train down a rabbit hole.
The VCR slot was crammed full with U.S. treasury bills
and the garbage can was overflowing with twisted seaweed.
Sure the road is long,
but give me a sunset in Cleveland and we can touch the sky.