Poetry by david e bell from our virtual circles

You are my Pilot
the Chevy our starship
slicing through the void
our radio, dial cool glowing
our time machine
our companion
in the long night
the desert
a blurred streak between
sun bleached lines
stretching out
past the headlights
towards a future
the horizon unseen
heat crazed pavement
rumbling under
heat softened rubber
the pin prick stars
bright curving
down mirror polished fenders
Clear Channel Radio
Texas Rock hard pounding
into the inky dark
the driving beat
cross fading
into ballads
layered atop
love songs
our love songs
low whispering
and there isn’t a levee
for the Chevy
not for another Five Hundred Miles
or more
with The Wichita Lineman
still working the line
out there
in dust still settling
behind red shifting tail lights long vanished
The Sultans are Swinging
Guitar George, all the chords
Dire Straits
evolving into
Brothers in Arms
Jersey Shore rock
to carry us through
the threes and the fours
somewhere towards dawn
we go Celtic
Enya soothing
coffee jangled nerves
then out of nowhere comes
Tears in the Rain
rolling into
Who’ll stop the Rain
molasses thick
from the speaker pouring evolving into
Life on Mars
the false dawn bringing
Embryonic Journey
from Surrealistic Pillow
Zarathustra accompanies
an epic sunrise
a sleepy little diner
our favorite breakfast stop
where the jukebox knows just three songs
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
and Moonriver
The waitress is waiting
with her Cheshire Cat smile
with coffee, orange juice and pancakes
at the ready
I plug the box with a quarter
you choose A3
your sweet lips
echoing the waitress’s
sexy cat

“Evening Moon Landscape” Photo by Abdullah Yılmaz from PxHere