Pencil Shaped Car
I sit behind the wheel of my pencil shaped car
The idiot light flashing, “your words are ajar”
Behind an old Ford carrying five gallon buckets of words
I watch as letters slosh and spill downwards
The truck’s chrome bumper caked with layers already dry
A mess of letters and punctuation attached like black fungi
Helplessly I watch as one of the buckets tips over
Lower case and capital letters splash and splutter
My windshield wipers struggle to keep up with the spray
There’s an R stuck in the blade and on my hood an essay
And now behind me cars are sliding on words like slick
Tires smearing Baskerville font into one long lyric
It occurs to me that I don’t need my pencil shaped car to write
Just five gallon buckets full of words and a lid pressed tight
Then I could take them home and use a fine point brush
To write entire stanzas in a wrist-flick rush
The idiot light flashing, “your words are ajar”
Behind an old Ford carrying five gallon buckets of words
I watch as letters slosh and spill downwards
The truck’s chrome bumper caked with layers already dry
A mess of letters and punctuation attached like black fungi
Helplessly I watch as one of the buckets tips over
Lower case and capital letters splash and splutter
My windshield wipers struggle to keep up with the spray
There’s an R stuck in the blade and on my hood an essay
And now behind me cars are sliding on words like slick
Tires smearing Baskerville font into one long lyric
It occurs to me that I don’t need my pencil shaped car to write
Just five gallon buckets full of words and a lid pressed tight
Then I could take them home and use a fine point brush
To write entire stanzas in a wrist-flick rush
posted by Jeremy at Wednesday, November 02, 2005
4 Comments:
I could totally see you cruising in a pencil. With a scarf and driving goggles. Your 1956 #2 vintage black murado.
The Marado Black Warrior is dead to me.
There are reasons for this that I am sure you could care less about.
WAR DIXON TICONDAROGA BLACK 1388-2
pegg
pencils with erasers are dead to me
MY GOD! You told me there was no pencil like the Marado Black Warrior. You scattered them throughout my home! The agony!
By the way, loved the poem. One I could almost understand.
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