BLUES BUELLERS

 

                 how often does the train come by?

headlamp glinting off a silver moon river

sign slow blinking red-red-red for the ATV idiots

 

chugging slow low rolling steel wheel thunder

through the stricken trees along electric lake

 

I come crunching dark gravel pebbles in lieu of homework

                      static starlight tangled in the street lamps

craving early ice cream frozen hillside rural suburbia

it’s sleepy here and the shops are long since closed

 

listen with a loving heart and become another radio

open source airwaves by the cover of another night

 

blues belushi doesn’t notice the train or any relative silence

even streaking with the lights and roar neither do I anymore

wandering and watching jealous of an unalterable destination