Drive on

a long line of cars sets out
to sail the seven seas
with a cat o' nine tails
ripping at the rear
wheels, which glide
over the horizon like the sun
on a clear day with a strong tailwind of
nostalgia
and melt
into the tarmac
rolling over the hill
 

Sparkles

A thousand sparkling eyes blink at me through the wet beads,

Glowing bright yellow as they close in,

Swooping down the wide grey path in ecstatic fury

And then they fade as they pass,

Forgetting me in their rush

And frantically hurrying on in search of some foreign goal,

Private to me, but all of them share the same one

Because they all pass me and carry on with no thought for what they’ve left behind

Though they probably surge along those same paths the next day

And follow the same way as me.

But still I do not understand them

And their silent eyes flicker to tease me as they glisten

In waves of light, and in dark blankets, too.