Poem: Violence, etc.

Violence, etc.

Red beads crawling ahead
white glows trailing behind
as I sail into the darkness
my feet dancing
to the voice on the radio.

Driving at night soothes,
collecting thoughts like alms
and poems like virtues -
appropriate, this Easter Sunday
my mind churning away.
Who can say how a stream
of consciousness tumbles
how I go from the resurrection
of Jesus to
the extinction of dinosaurs
(if one came back, we'd
call it lazarusaurus)
to giant meteorites and
robotic Japanese monsters and
global warming and
violence, etc.

Fog blooming over the city
a dew drop on rose petals
of a strange orange house
overlooking some obscure
part of this 280 drive home.
I always say I'll look it up
when I get back, but
I never do.