and another one

i am empty and
i'm full
of other people's secrets
this week my car died on me. it was dried right out of the last nanodrop of gas. it died at the stroke of midnight on the murky streets of the CWE right there spot on the dividing line of the middle of the road. i had never felt Blueberry grunt choke aspirate cough sputter choke choke and then. sudden death! i felt her soul levitate and hover over my pathetic self that was frantically pushing on a silent pedal. honks from the midnight crowd.
they say when it rains it pours. out of the drunken shadows of the night he materialized. the man with no home but with muscles to spare. and he started to push dead Blueberry to a more deserving side of the world, and of the yellow line. out of the dangling darkness i heard my name. it was my smiley neighbour and her friend. and they pushed alongside the homeless man while i argued and wrestled with the steering wheel. and you know what i thought? i thought i was in lebanon.
pushing cars feels like home.
speeding with the wind against the law feels like home.
east st louis feels like home.
a tornado hovering feels like home.
a sleazy arab night at bar italia feels like home.
a handsome italian man inhaling deeply and looking broodingly at the night. feels like home.
and since it's the 4th of july. the explosion of fireworks echoing through my glass. (shudder) feels like home.