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letra de thisorder - penny

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captured in the stop n’ go rhythm of yet another approaching week’s end
the wored-on gentleman answers his mirror-
re and rewriting the power game that he’d played in ’88
when he’d been voice-stripped and eye-soaked;
he does his best acting in the brake lights
as his very grounded audience rolls their eyes in synch with the tire turns-
the messy pen talk’s just a character flaw
to the programmed hand-cautious cross walkers

(but pencils do a nice disappearing act)

it’s the line that separates the sky from the ground
and while the formulated spend their free time rinsing paths into the dirt-
some are only carried by the air…

waking up to the back of the clock-
do the daily hand-search dance
and disconnect the chord
before another morning coats the floor;
we float across each day and sometimes lose our cushioned shoes-
backstepping to the bedroom door for more disposable paper wheels

she walks with the sound of jangling wrong keys
in and out of each bus’ entrance just before
requesting: a window by a cold seat
the stars highlight her cooling accomplishment for her anti-eyes

and still…
she hasn’t quite landed yet-
she’s waiting for the ground to pull her down
(though heavy hands can’t be blamed for concave doorkn-bs)

it’s the line that divides the cars at war’
and while the picture-framed don’t mind memorizing the right lane-
some would rather interweave the sp-ces in between…

waking up to the back of the clock-
do the daily hand-search dance
and disconnect the chord
before another morning coats the floor;
we float across each day and sometimes lose our cushioned shoes-
backstepping to the bedroom door for more disposable paper wheels

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