When Wandering Headlights Weep

In picture windows across the world,

they watch, they stare, they sometimes

cry,

they’re the souls left alone to wonder,

watching the headlights streamline by,

like a slow motion ray of long wound

catapults of energy,

sweeping past the imagination

without waiting wanderers,

perhaps ne’er a question of why.

 

We all might wish to have that moment,

a second of their time,

screeching tires and suddenly

out the door, a person,

a human being assuredly defines the rapid

departure of any possibility

defining the time

we just watched sweep past our reality.

 

Yet for that next few hours,

she will, he might, and they’ll return,

to their security,

the picture window,

observing the reality with swift purpose,

motion by,

as if to recognize

there is no one waiting nearby,

only everyone lays ahead,

in the distance,

there’s the real reason why.

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I Want Your BMW

Everyday I see you roading
Drifting past me
Sleek and elegant
A fashion statement

I want your BMW
That should be my ride
If I were you
Then maybe I might have it
Cruising along the avenue

I want your BMW
And if I do drive away
That means I’m somewhere else
Not who I seem to be
Filling some absent void

I want your BMW
There is an attraction
To something I cannot have
Seems it is more than the metal
That holds your wheels in line

I want your BMW
I want it to be mine