fly-by-nite lighthouse

express service

The country song drones on and on on 35 from Waco down to San Antone and I think as I steer thoughts that soon interfere with the faith that I left in a warm mug of beer 'neath the neon of the sign winking crisp winking fine on and off a short circuit like these thoughts in my mind- circling 'round little rats gnawing tunnels through the slats of the bed that's my head rotting wood knocks it flat! If I can't stop the vermins' tear with some poison or some dare I'll succumb and out my head they'll race without so much a care! And the patterns of the neon- frequencies I'll never be on- hypnotize me like a magus so I'm happy as a peon. In this life to find purpose we're the rats and they're no worse off than we- knuckles grasping wheel we pilot our own hearse.

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E-MAIL THE WOULD-BE POET

ALL POETRY COPYRIGHT MB TANKERSLEY 2004

Amazingly enough I wrote this while driving- you guessed it- from Waco down to San Antonio. That route is one of the ugliest in the state- nothing but empty rangeland, truckstops and porn shops in between towns. I felt like it was a healing experience to concentrate on anything besides the "scenery!" The title comes from the first sign I looked up to see at the exceedingly unsightly gas station where I had stopped after I wrote the poem. Finally found the last couplet with some help from friends on Poetry Array.