Why does everyone drive the same car you do?
I never noticed blue cars before
But now they’re everywhere
I’m looking for fragments of you in crowded parking lots
Slowing down at intersections and glancing into oncoming traffic
Every windshield has my attention until it reveals a stranger’s face
Every blue car becomes a question
Every one becomes hope that lives for a second
I find myself searching for you without intention
But I’m microdosing disappointment
Because it’s rarely you
This small town has too many versions of blue
And every one makes my heart speed up
Just a glance
A smile
A silhouette
The knowing you saw me too
And hoping the thought of me lingered
I wonder if I accidentally interrupt your day the same way you do mine
Have your eyes ever searched for the orange?
Only to realize
It was just another stranger headed somewhere
And wasn’t me
Maybe you don’t search for me at all
Or maybe you do
I’ll probably never know
And maybe there aren’t that many blue cars
Maybe once you’ve loved someone
The world starts painting itself in their colors
Roads are all clogged ~ clogged with cars
there's too many too many by far
streets look more like a parking lot
there's no sword for this Gordian Knot
I'm leaving town want to get where I'm going
nothing's slowing me down
leaving town want to get there on time
I'm not dawdling or waiting around
like a hot cup of coffee on a stone-cold morning
or an ice-cold beer on a hot summer's day
it's a new lease on life down the line
leaving nothing behind I'm on my way
I'm taking the train to my next location
no car for me I won't be
driving to a new destination
traveling light making for the station
taking the train I'm taking the train
We roll beneath the cypress shade,
With radar humming through the glade—
A silent beam, it marks your speed,
Before you even see the deed.
The dash cam blinks, an unblinking eye,
Recording truth you can’t deny.
The body cam hums a steady tune,
Every whisper caught by noon.
A license plate reader scans the air,
Numbers flash—a silent snare.
If you’re wanted, or your tag expired,
It chirps—a hunter newly wired.
Computer mounts glow in the night,
Dispatch sending left and right.
GPS maps where each soul roams,
Drawing paths back to their homes.
Thermal sight through swampy dark,
Can spot a heartbeat—leave its mark.
The mic in my collar hears your plea,
And streams it straight to the deputy.
Don’t think the backseat’s just for rest—
It’s steel and shield, a lawful nest.
Your rights are read, your hands confined,
While satellites keep you in line.
So when you see that bar of blue,
Know tech and training ride there too.
We don’t just follow—we foresee,
By lens, by code, by law, by key.
Like scenes from a romance the world passed by
When you came into view and Time stood still
As I sat agape, mesmerized until
Our cars moved on before I could say “Hi!”
Now my heart’s left with an eternal sigh.
October 27, 2025
two gleaming shiny cars
how much do they know?
they have taken our family on many journeys
they have seen our anger
Do they make fun of us
Behind our backs?
Maybe in front of our faces?
How can we shame or punish them
if we don’t know?
I stare at the cars in my driveway
resenting their feeling of superiority
White Cars Haunt
My dreams awake in wasteful
Flights fantastic blight
Each headlight flares
Restless into the outer fields of memory
The oppressive, hot, humid twilight
Passing out of my sight
They haunt my wakening eyes
Along the way, hollow roads of soul
Down endless maps of history
The endless engines thumm
An echo old still lasts, sitting
White cars are empty and cold
Bloody taillights trace each past
Black rubber burns distant futures
White cars sit idle, haunting
Engines' hot air rises to
Meet my blurry vision of yesterday
As white cars haunt
Passing me on the left and then the right
Ghostly in the pale moonlight
In a parking lot, idling, hot
As neon bars pop and flicker
Feel the rot of endless horizons
White white cars travel, burning
Into the enigmatic magnetic night…
Cosy lights and small toy cars.
Chasing baddies under the bed clothes by torchlight for the moon and the stars.
Creating people and places and crimes.
Creating heros and villains with no pennies or dimes.
Finding beauty that you cannot find the words to describe.
Sunlight through tree shadow cut by a bird taking flight.
Mist like magic under the dawn of a new day.
Fields of miles to explore and conquer in the innocence of play.
Dreams that weren’t broken by the reality of life.
Eyes wide with wonder in soft faces of warm light.
Laughter and joy chasing the sun.
The days when we could dream of being anything or anyone.
Trees, cars and Elon Musk
The branches of trees on the avenue
Was stretching upward this morning
To be a decorative tree is not easy
Standing still looking leafy
Once they had been mere sampling
In a forest of other trees, feeling safe
Protected by tree too old or crocked
Stand under a tree and hear a murmur
They agree electric cars has no fumes
But older cars are better lookers
My car swell with pride she 28 to day
A self-driving AI long before Elon Musk
Said he had invented a driver-less car
Glistening in popcorn yellow
or wearing a fire engine glow;
They may hold a shade of status
but that’s not all there is to us;
I’d love to travel with a poof
and never fear if we’re fireproof;
Auto repairs cost I confess;
we could reduce all of that stress,
Even to fly with metal wings,
that aerial view pulls heartstrings;
Can we be rid of that time bomb,
humanity would be more calm;
I long for a trip to the stars,
I long for a world with no cars.
When you are old not much seems new
But technology trolls and cars suck too
I like the old cars with frames solid heavy
Does good a heart with your foot on the levy
New clothes aren’t new they’re copycats
Except the ripped new clothes not made to last
I miss the elegance that Hollywood once had
People barely dress now, wearing pajamas fad
When you are old more important things matter
But you notice these small things makes you sadder
If you speak your mind you’re a mad hatter
Still you love simple finds, the soft pitter patter
Of rain on windowpane, of footsteps of kids
They’ve broken the window playing like you did
You can find their laugh is like a mind kiss
Bringing back sweet memories of times like this
When you get old your asset is health
You may or may not have money left
But you know you can’t spend it dead
So money is funny you value time instead
Lumbar ladies stroll by as the night sedans plunder the ho-dad hostels.
Looking to find nothing except another dozing cigarette beyond the cadenzas.
Another hot afternoon in suburbia with the repeated barkings of a distant dog.
Billy boy in his red asphalt-eating machine turns the dial to San Bernardino.
There is cool music bobbing in the hot accepting winds, south of Dragons Head.
In smoggy Corona, the dizzy Volkswagens travel in circles like demented dogs.
Billy boy guns the engine as he and the Mexican chick cruise in a ’67 beetle.
They pass the Chuck Wagon, as Slim Harpo melts the sun with Little Liza Jane.
Traffic signals, and the elderberry trees, pretend to dance to the muted cadences.
The hot afternoon winds play their own love-games as Billy boy comes to a stop.
Brown-eyed señorita with long hair flowing tells Billy boy to turn up the sound.
‘Music is life,’ she says, as the red asphalt-eating machine turns left at 6th Street.
Lumbar ladies stroll by now as the night sedans receive the night’s embrace.
At City Park, Billy and his latin lady sleep soundly in the cottonwood darkness.
and why not
let them;
my son is asleep in the car
the radio plays
the skies are grey
the windows are nearly shut
a delicate breeze converges with
our transcendence
we are being transported
as he possibly dreams about
another football league he wants to invent
or, as he mentioned before hopping in the car
he wanted to leave the tennis early
to write his own song at home
he wants to relate, impart and begin his goodbyes
as the gale invading the vehicle is like the
tempest of ideas burgeoning his mind
i pull up to traffic lights and
i wonder if such joy exists in
the other cars
around us
Don't ignore the stop sign
on yellow school bus even if in hurry.
All along discipline to carry !
Kids safety ! Priority.
Whether cops are watching or not
That's not the point al all : Got it ?
Car drivers ! Keep alert : Right !
To disobey red light is crime offence.
Car drivers ! Have common sense
Both car and bus are put in danger.
It's better late than never.
Don't try to overtake : Traffic rules not to break
Safe drive ! Save life.
Be cautious : Not to behave notorious.
few cars for liftoff
disappointed by “no-go”
sighs and shrugs
but in 1969
it was a parking lot high
I never liked driving.
I just like getting to where I need to be.
I wonder if heaven has cars.
If it does…
I bet they don’t rust or break down.
They don’t run out of gas-
Like we did that one time.
We waited on a hill filled with wildflowers.
If heaven had cars…
They would be quiet, and soft.
Zipping past, but everything is clear.
I never liked driving.
My friend did.
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