they had an inedible solar powered imagination
that could generate juice off the moon's reflection
in a steam of midnight piss
so; six in the morning, off to pull a binger& harken
the roommate---down the road to topeka,
to puke ah
while renting the roadspace at the tollbooth,
our driver bonedaddy at the helm; our booth
operator Dora Lee tapped him on the hand,
tole us have a good day
&so blessed by the psalm olived freshness of sunrise
they shot in front of semi trucks
awful fast carting dangerous
substances of mystery
& light struck the trees from Low across morning hills
causing each leaf to shrug shoulders
in disbelief, barns were creaking stuffed fulla
yawns of livestock, valleys swept
w/foggy headed implications of Last Nite
we was feeling so good
we mighta drove a wee bit fast cuz the passing
stormtrooper lassoed us with a radar gun blast
----a pair come crackling toward our car
and sez arright boys lets see some
eye D clear keep yer hands out on that blanket
& the harris boys say yessis occifer
squeezing the graffix bong twixt their legs
-----------O the early worm was smart
to squirm out of those talons
of that stainless steel donut disposal system
with only a forty dollar fine
so they felt super duper fine and hosed out the visine,
warshing varnish off the skull of america
cattle asleep at the breakfast table
dreamed our beautiful speed as we spit out windows
at hallucinations of their reality,
the exhaust of our old selves
made us dizzy, stench of roadkill hamburgers
from hardees, hey lets stop and get
raccoon tail hats, mister bonedaddy at the
helm smearing us down the toast toward boulder
colorado-------What is ahead
whatever is in our Heads------car the size
of hummingbird, radio singing
ballads of voodoo stock car drivers
we know we ain't make it to heaven,
we just wanna free beer
we just want it to exist, we could care less
about biggest Jackelopesr
nor 666 ounce steak deals if you eat it all
nor earrings of hitch hiking inmates
better they crawl than ride our brand,
we sting we swill we skewer
we rest at a STOP. urinate, polish our uzzi
to go hunting the oriental furnishings crapped out
in utility factories for the weak We Wanna Wear
styrofoam disco diapers,
pee in our pants with Pride,
We Wanna free beer & can imagine
it there a seventy story grain silo at the end
of this high way, spigots running out
five pound chunks of ice kicked about
by bison guarding the tankard with telepathic surgery
cutting out our reason
planting wooly lust for thunder, the rush
of the road, getting gone, sitting
in front of the page
22 going on 23
my mind races my minds purpose on the brow
faster than the guestimation station
1989 lawrence to st louis,
then straight to boulder,
back to lawrence, K.U.
