Stick-Shift Plane - pipTalk Forums

How to Join	Member's Area	Private Library	Search	Sanctuary		Login
Main Forums	Discussion	Tech Talk	Mature Content	Archives	A home without a wall, Our haven without ends, A circle we all call Our Family of Friends!

Open Poetry #39

Stick-Shift Plane

Spot
Junior Member

since 2006-03-04

Posts 45
CA, US

0 posted 2006-10-23 07:25 PM

Stick-Shift Plane

half-asleep or worrying
seem to be my only options
for how to live my life.
but then, that may be
because I leave before the sun comes up
every morning

and
the nights aren’t spent like they should be.
instead I’m chasing you
with whatever music or words
I can convince myself are the key
just for tonight
just for whomever you happen to be
tonight.

my car is cold and loud
in the mornings
everything is too fragile and
indistinct to handle
pretty voices giving secrets away.
and the bridge over the canyon
feels different underneath the grating
of the engine, startling
reminding me to hurry.
I’d better be meeting you
somewhere today.
it usually doesn’t matter
if it’s in words or a real smile
neither one would live up to
my expectations
anyway,
no matter how much I try to pretend
that they are for me.

at night I drive with the window open
and the music whispers just for me
even when it pulses around me and
I can feel people staring at the lights that stop me
from pressing the gas until
my heart is as loud as the other beat
that seems closer to life
more like what I should be
something people take the time
to actually listen to.

In the mornings I don’t smile
and if I feel anything
it is guilt,
and resentment of you
of anyone
of everyone
for making me feel like this
for not making me feel
for not seeing that I
can’t remember my dreams when I wake up.

when the sun has already gone
I couldn’t tell you what I feel
because I don’t care
don’t you see, I can feel
maybe you take it for granted
but the sun shines on me
for me
some days
and others I realize just how
thoughtless it is
to expect that of anyone.

in class I don’t remember the drive there
just what seems like hours of
thinking of you
and knowing expectations are the worst.
Driving in the dark
makes you expect too much, maybe
from the sun
from each day
I tell myself I’ve accepted being alone
but it isn’t really your fault
that I walk away upset
when you didn’t do anything wrong
you just didn’t do anything

once you have fallen it’s much easier and
I am lighter because
whether I drove away laughing or
crying and pretending to hide it
I don’t have anything left to wait for.
and there is a different song for everything
and the same speed just for me.
at night I can think these thoughts and believe
that I really have ideas
of my own
even though the lyrics
are already written and
the car drives the same for
everyone, but
anyone who picks up the keys and
feels what is already there
thinks he is a philosopher.

everything is wrong in the morning
jarring and out of place
and so clouded by wanting something
someplace to rest
that the control of steering and
shifting gears seems
like a burden;
it’s all so heavy that I don’t wake up until the suns sets
unless I can find someone to offer this weight
offer myself
to.

I head home when the light is gone
and even though I still haven’t found my place
or purpose
or my you
the car quivers under me
it hums under the music and
the words could be about you
or not
and the ground feels different, smoother,
it’s effortless for a minute
and I’m so light
that maybe I could fly;
if I go fast enough
on the new road
on the right night
with the right song
my bridge over the canyon can be a runway.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -

I know this forum isn't meant for analysis, but I need to ask one question- is it too long, or repetitive? I've had conflicting answers on that.

thanks

Martie

Moderator

Member Empyrean

since 1999-09-21

Posts 28049
California

1 posted 2006-10-23 08:52 PM

"is it too long, or repetitive?"

Spot...the feeling was there...I don't think you needed so many words to tell it.

	⇧ top of page ⇧
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format.