Muffler Days -- For Ld, Just In Case She Is Looking

you are in your car you’re Mrs Albert Camus taking that last train ride he never took an envelope steering about your jiggering fingers hesitant scared of being committed to the mail you’re the muffler guy driving your mudmade stationwagon with backbigend dragging like a pensionedoff bellydancer’s rump with rhinestone shale of cirro cumulus dustcloud dirt roads selling wormy turnips to anyone who’ll listen mouthing mail chute an abyss a sound a leap of faith an absurd essay for meaning so u turn & turn again about & she’s gone surely as if it were she lost to some random automobile and not you to the attempt