A Screwdriver Starts This Van Poem by Lane Morein

its been a week
of cool weather in a different town
featuring a high crime rate
and liquor store on every corner
bars cover all the windows
because of what could be
which doesnt seem so different any more
but i was only drunk once this trip
stumbling down the dangerous streets
chain smoking
buying wine for my brother
and im traveling home
up the interstate
like a faulty torpedo
in a broken down white van
used for band tours
with no stereo
where we have to make our own music
for 2 hours
to my tiny studio apartment
with peeling paint
and mildew on the bathroom ceiling
where i lay my head
surrounded by art supplies
with potentiality
which i never
use

(10/11/09)