Shiny Crimson Trails
by Tim G. Young
a man in silhouette wearing a hat
steps out from store
in rain
twilight encapsulates moods, images
as light fades
he steps off curb
into open door of waiting vehicle
automobile slides down black tape
tail lights crying shiny crimson trails
no human is seen
windshield wipers play games
demonstrating skills beyond measure
a CD player lasers latest recording
into ears, dark parts, even muscle
silences roar like raindrops
slapping themselves in head
endless night creeps
into fond empty space
each moment encouraged
like the last and the one before
black legs exit doorways
like shadows almost hidden
car parts glisten dancing along
rear view mirrors lost in time
there is no speaking
only thoughts lost in
lonely trails of red
like blood in head
pounding towards next destinations
the music is over
lush drunkenness climbs
into back seat
hands remove hat
sliding along narrow throats
rain swallowed like fear
traces every crack
until wet streets
reflect only green
no human is seen
Post-modern noir. Deliciously cinematic. *
Thanks Mathew, right on.
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To Amanda and Tara: I'm seeing stars! Thanks.