ode to jack

i was maybe 19 or twenty
when i chased him down
in his ragged out beat up malnourished ole roadster
speeding past road blocks and street signs
ignoring the protesters lining the sidewalks
with their comfortable jobs
two car garage
and well manicured lawns
everybody blew up in applause
when they could see the taillights
of jack’s ole car
fading on the horizon so fast
we almost forgot
he was there
but i was in such an on fire hurry to nowhere
that i ran him down
fleet of foot
sprinting through the exhaust and soot
of his so called muffler firing toxic bullets
the street below tearing my shoes to ruin
to the point of abandon
so i left them
i left everything at different altars
scattered along the roadside
like funeral pyres
like stars dizzy with wine
dancing in the free-for-all
of the long joy ride
to the moon and back
with no one to tell you anything different
just the pulse of unbridled heathen jazz running through your veins
the rhythm of the wheels
humming on the open road
a firm grip on the steering wheel
the lust of all hopeless wanderers
migrating through the infinite suburbs
to the last vestige of inspiration
out in the badlands
past the steady hand of uncle sam
lacing his patriotic shoestrings
to chase after a generation
bound for glory
but lost in the haze
of so many altars
forming constellations
on the highway
that’s where I found him anyway
burning like a constellation on the highway
and i could tell from the smell
and the carnage
and the dour faces of all the witnesses
that a blazing hope had been extinguished
but not before
putting the pedal to the floor
busting through the doors
and shouting
i am where you are looking for


8 thoughts on “ode to jack

  1. You definitely have yourself an outstanding text here, wonderfully written, the conversational tone and concept remarkable. Do you mean “pyres”? phmozley, this is fantastic! Thank you!

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