deprivation

look at him all dried up,
       coughing up hot air.
no lubricant to grind
                  thoughtcogs into cornstalks

the road is paved with,
       any road. just to get away, lord.

in the laundromat

 ...the ocean floor holds the map of petroleum vaults...
         the information is pricey,
                while he figures the tax rate,

    memory careens into drought.

look around him,

the buildup of frustration in the washing machine drums
so why add to it.
      the sloshing of pain, so why add to it.

look but don't probe,
don't speak