Car Bomb Noise

car pic go boom
Urvan Wired

Come have at us we are strong.
—Julian Plenti

    • A street and a sidewalk
      A bluff of storefronts
      A smattering of food carts
  • At Camden subpharm,
    looking for ramped-up lollies,
    we meet two broken dollies.

    Rug-haired wire ladies
    filled with cold breath,
    from toe tips to split ends.

    We say seductively:
    “The cars are double parked.”
    They spit back raw ill street noise,
    jittery with cable confusion.

    Passing trolls, rubber-eyeballing us,
    glitch-pause in their hurried march
    over cool Camden concrete.

    We plead humbly:
    “Desire is the mixing of red and blue wires
    when purple is the color of self destruction.”
    Their eyelid blush rises with incomprehension,
    as bouldery men toting black bags push past.

    A dolly’s bared limbs are sinew-held.
    Half empty, half filled; they smell
    of plastic-wrapped hothouse flowers,
    alive out of season. Undead lilies.

    We say vexingly:
    “You taste just like the river Styx.”

    The dollies’ lolly sticks sag now.
    We lift d2’s grayed-out wings.
    She flew … once upon a time.
    We reset d1’s crashed mainframe.
    She knew … once upon a time.

    The dollies, unfamiliar with ease,
    punch our bright pulsing sockets,
    nerve twitch, muscle spasm, jolt.
    All landmarks dissolving into sparkles,
    our house lights dim for the sideshow
    and then spike red, white, black again.

    The darkness spins our dials around
    the bend again, refreshing this message:

    A heart that fuels a body in space,
    fuels not the dark matter in between.
    The key that triggers a car’s ignition,
    fuels only the body that sets the charge.

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    4 thoughts on “Car Bomb Noise

    1. Fuck, man, if this was meant to experimental, then I’m pretty sure it worked. You have seriously outdone yourself with this piece. I only wish I could do what you do with words. I can’t really define exactly what that is, which is why I can’t do it.

      1. Thank you. Too kind, you are. I can tell you’re a good (excellent) teacher because of the construction and logic of your last sentence. You identified the problem and drew a keen, straight forward conclusion and then communicated it easily. I have a difficult time doing that.

      1. Hey, thank you. I was trying to describe people I’ve seen/known who don’t always sleep in a bed and take a shower in the morning, but who are often awake and outside for longer than usual amounts of time. Women who are amped up and wandering around in a 24-hour nightlife buzz. I’m glad you enjoyed the poem.

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