Out the entrance a double-decker carried out carshells
Whose eyes have just been plucked out, wheels pulled
In sacred death ritual, the glass extracted so that others
May see, any high fidelity picked clean with any bucket seats
Or custom gills or fur replacement upholstery
Left immobile in the picker's yard where the buitres
Sign consent forms to enter and remove any carrion
That can be re-distributed so that families may eat.
A smiling boy guns a totalled Caddy on a forklift
Past the field of rims to get to them, while locksmiths
And Taco RV's await outside to service their necesidades,
These scavengers lured by the art of the possible
When toda esperanza está perdida. The Subaru
We delivered, cleared of title, use and servitude
Took its final ten-mile ride through Stanton, that most
Unlikely town, where the unused game environments
Too go to die: the piano warehouse, the roller coaster,
The lavender sports bar, with Weddings and Funerals
And the Starlite Inn, la tienda de mascotas exóticas
Where our beautiful but tortured home iguana fue.
We come to deposit it to its angel of rest and a trip
To the Pleiades for taking us out of Natomas
And its model train memories over the Grapevine
To Orange County, where things'd changed not to the good
But one could always start again, fresh slate on the white beach
With the cosas not yet seen: The Philly Cheese joint,
The Naugles in the round, the corazones of everyone
Connecting for a moment in the sun. And the new world
Demanded new blue Subarus, with no clouds or memories,
Able to take the turbo up the mountain where the Gods
Consent to play with us, because we remember them, first.
The red one to be saved for oblivion wears its pentagram proudly
As it revs to its final stop. It has suffered so long,
Borne the burden of its 277,777 miles like the Uber it once was
But its guts will fall out any moment, and its heart is just one
Acceleration away from stopping. It has been so kind to let us see
The other side of the mountain, and to get there with us,
However briefly, in our purging and renovation. The car itself
Is a ghost, given for free by a ghost now, trying to help
A little too much too late, and he wants to be let go as well
To whatever star he damn well would chose to go, away from here
Where the porta orinal is freshly cleaned, piezas hang like linens
In the breeze, auto trains stacked in the yard with the violent dead
And our trans cashier who looked like a cadaver with dragon-neck
Tattoo adieu bid us down to our holy number so that AA Michael could
Cry with laughter for how every mushroom thus plucked
Would plant a seed somewhere else, every person happy to be helping
Move the need along, to be circulating continuously working all the way
Just happy to keep up with madre tierra and her respiración
On this most beautiful kind of morning, this good day to die.
And so death is done, its accoutrements extracted and blessed
Into dust. Is this the last marker, of what had too long haunted space
And we must, when we've reached our experiential threshold,
Embody the new, what is blooming all around: people unafraid
Of each other, knowing how they fit into the grand design,
And how they control it, holding the needle of fate
Like a mono de rescate holds pliers in the air. On the way back,
Past the Salvation Army scene of griefs prior from the death
Of a hoarder, life bottled in storage cubes like yeasty bouillon,
The broken lamps, the chairs without legs, the hutchless silver.
She too was laughing from beyond, wishing me luck, thanking me
Again for joining a family I never really left, or so she at a distance said,
The wise one, the one most afflicted. Across the street a giant dog rose
From a Sube dealer roof never noted before, maybe it was there,
Maybe I, too, had a past, but we are "Under New Management,"
Like Mariner Blue as it cruises Beach to Mariner's Cove home to Banff.
The disputes have not been settled, but the scales have been realigned
Again. Everyone is even now, and, for now, always will be.
The new glows pregnant with thought on vines in zero point wind.
They have conceived from every conceivable experience,
The new fool, now finally consciente, content simply
To reach for what is, and lay off the what is not.
