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Moving Drearily Down Twelfth Street

habitat is immensely similar to peach and fuzz,
crawling out between
shards of metal

that store a futile race around and around,
like NASCAR,
except there is never a winner.

Striving, we want to win,
but it’s not that way in our circles.

When we accept defeat, accept the futility,
then we are in trouble for not
staying on the track.

It’s mostly coal from the structures
covering my face,
making me unbearable to myself.

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  1. #1 by scribbla on August 30, 2011 - 10:00 am

    I kinda feel like this today. Very apt for me. Thanks for writing it.

    • #2 by Carl on August 30, 2011 - 10:17 pm

      I’m sorry you do, but I’m glad I’m not alone. Thanks for commenting!

  2. #3 by Carl D'Agostino on August 30, 2011 - 10:53 am

    Always doubted intelligence of people that can spend all day watching cars go round and round. Or are their motives sinister like hoping to see a flaming crash. Is that a soccer goal for them? In life, from the existential view, there is no finish line or trophy but isn’t their victory in aspiring? Victory in having the will to defy the gods rather than submit or is that a futile self imposed delusion?

    • #4 by Carl on August 30, 2011 - 10:23 pm

      I think as soon as I think I am having victory by having will to defy the gods, I am in big trouble. I have to surrender to what the gods have wrought and sometimes I whine about that.

      I think I am low end of the intelligence scale, but I enjoy the underlying drama in auto racing of all types…There is man, machine, track (nature, weather), and other men, AND women! It’s a horrible combination which makes for a wonderfully subtle natural drama or a not so subtle battle of stupid idiots and the people who root for them.

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