Friday, December 16, 2011

Revelations in a Junkyard

I was lost in a junkyard
hoping to find a compass
somewhere in the mountain
of rusted metal things.

There were four living creatures
staring at me with their multitude of eyes,
all of them blood-shot
from sleepless eons.

They were standing around a filthy recliner
drinking malt-liquor and
howling at the moon
or a hubcap in the sky.
I asked them for directions

out of this horrifying place.
They did not answer.
They could not speak.
Their thousand eyelashes

beat the air like
the wings of a thousand bats,
blowing out the fires in the seven industrial drums
like candles on a birthday cake.

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