Blue Dreams

Cautiously, he pulls into his driveway,
cotton-white car, with big blue eyes,
now closing as they both get ready
for a well-deserved rest after a long beat night.

Feeling the care he gives as he slowly
enters his garage, he can’t forget the job,
or what it means to be careless, even now,
here, on his own land.

He trembles his way through the kitchen,
maybe some breakfast, read mail,
check notes, notice the new drawings
on the fridge, the young ones he patrols for.

A quick shower, glance at the news to see
crime he knows too well,
sees too often,
right now wants to forget,
as he slips under the covers,
to dream of the school bus carrying his love to him.

**

Workin’ Man

The truck glistened with new fallen dew
as the young man lifted himself into the seat.
He felt the surge as he turned the key and
the engine rolled over out of sleep,
into the awakening world.

It’s eyes opened with the yellow glow of
incandescent light as the dew glimmered
from it’s face.
The sun, still hidden behind the dark horizon,
is yet to be seen this early morning.
Leaves trembled from the trees as the wheels
crackled down the gravel driveway towards the
day, unknown

and the small hand waved, sleepily, from the back
bedroom window, starting to wait for dinner…

**

She’s a ’69 Model

revving up the engine
on that rusty clunker he works on
several nights a week

I wonder why he does this so often?

Does he not have a wife,
kids,
anything else?

Why are you in your garage several nights
a week, at 1:00am in the morning,
repairing a car, that has been used up
years ago?

When you are finished, you will still
have an old car.
New looking, but still old.
Reminds me of plastic surgery,
new faces on old souls

What good is that?

Change should start inside
where people can tell the difference,
when they talk to you,
not when they see you

Ohh,