Invoking the muse pt.2

An incandescent cross of Christmas
lights and barbed wire
was stapled to a bare brown telephone
pole and hanging Christ less,
limp and gaudy

in front of a Sun co Phillips factory
by the free way.



And that cross was saying things (real
actual words) that I'm convinced nobody else but me could hear.
It was speaking loud in that language
you made me of stiff drinks and silence,
of bent wheat and rain,


It said.



“Keep driving stupid. Don't you ever
stop.
Forget this life. You should really go
find another.”