Before The Lights Go Out

When the day is done and your arms are like black lines, really no more than threads dangling from a spool

And your hands can no longer feel

Nor your lips

You decide to revisit the past, what came before, in the early morning, when smoke was choking your throat

So you drive back to the fields, the rolling hills, and the volcano towering over all

And you are alone in the tightly made SUV with the broken radio and the blood stains on the seat

And your thoughts mix with the air around your head, building a wall to separate yourself from all the others

The others

And suddenly, there they are by the thousands, maybe one-hundred thousand or more, maybe two-hundred thousand, no, certainly more, and they stare in their motionless way

Naked, sharing what it means to be alone, animals on the fringe

And you drive toward the horizon, the kind that can cut your eyes in half

Render the meaning of life into its unknown parts

Driving toward the sunset and the river

And all you can see is more of the same

They could stop you if they wanted

But they are entering into the other half of the world

And the fires are starting to be made

And you think that somewhere up ahead you should turn around

Or else you will become part of whatever this is

And there is really no room to turn around, no space for you, your thoughts, the lack of feeling in your heart, your burned religion, all the faithlessness you can muster, and in the moment you decide to drive on, into the night and down to the river where bad people move about, building plans for a victory of sorts

The recipe of death available from all of the dark armies

And you just might want to make a purchase before the lights go out

Before total night descends, blinding your way home

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