-the mystery ride-






Let's hit the road.

To leave by car

One must enter the car.

Two doors and the front seats

Tilt forward to assist access to the back.
Sometimes, on the driver's side,
The tilting seat will cause the horn to blow.
One slip-up could tipoff the cops.

But four doors and it’s every man

For himself.

Live a two-door life.

Live a life of two doors.

Help thy non-deserving neighbor.
The creep who's got more stuff than you.
Allow the drunken to sleep it off.

Assist thy fat, pain-in-the-ass relative
On the way to visit another one.
Tuck and strap the annoying kids into their seats.

Get the stupid dog in the car

And roll the back window down

So he can stick his head out

At 70 miles per hour rolling over the road.
We're on our way.
See the USA.

Look at that tongue,—
Wind-pushed beyond the far
Edge of the hinge 

Flapping like a moody vulva,

Its salty wetness flying back
Through the air in its sparks of spit.
The hours of my summer days.

The Moon was all it could be 
When you slipped a backside 
Penny into the loafer's slot,—
I'm yours, you're mine.
You'd dial-in a smokey
Platters tune,—
They asked me how I knew—
It was always in the way 
You'd tumble, 
Climbing over to the backseat, 
Laughing about what you'd say
To your friends
At school in the morning,
Giggling to their ears under the starched
Eyes of the Nuns,—
Climbing over
Like you knew how to do it,
Petticoat whistling 
Across the naugehyde under the headliner's
Yellowing dome,
Landing hard on the bench at my side
Bouncing on purpose
Twice or more
Tuned-in to fire 
Closer to the Galaxy's crazy
Cockeyed fins
And another way to make it all work.


To leave by car
One must enter the car.
The mystery ride.
A two-door life.
A life of two doors.
To climb that way
We hit the road, my darling young love,—
You and me when deep purple sang

And moonlight beamed across the window.

               for Madeline Valcourt
              Quequechan