You see faces looming up for a brief instant
As you hurtle by one another
Whoosh
Whoosh
Whoosh
Onrush of air stirs a
Sweet kiss moment as tons of
Metal
Glass
Plastic
Careen inches away
But for an instant there’s a flashbulb moment
Both of you look to see who’s sharing the space
There, caught in flagrante are the nosepickers
Booger mining
They don’t seem to care that the windows are transparent
Engaged in some major excavation of the nasal cavity
While on public display
The problem eaters, pushing into their slathering mouths
Junk food packets of varying size and heft
Spew inducing confections only mildly poisonous
Reckless texters playing with the ubiquitous devices
Going down with all thumbs
Wardrobe adjusters moving the girls or adjusting the package
Dolled up dolls
Applying eye shadow
Mascara
Lipstick
Looking at the rearview mirror instead of the road
Some of them have spotless cars
Some cars are full of trash
Or beanie babies glued across the dash
You hurtle by this kaleidoscope of faces
Speculate on who they are
Imagine a date with that cute one
Try to guess occupations
These days a lot of faces are blank
Inured to the weight of troubles
That burdens their souls
A lot of faces are red faced angry
Neck straining
Eye popping
Steam blowing
Red faced angry
I like the singers a lot better
Who are never off key
Belting it out with gusto and abandon
Passengers who prop their dirty feet on the dashboard
Or dangle them out the window
Likely for a good airing
Smokers chugging away
Like those old steam engines they used to have in the westerns
Some people are crying
Tears streaming down their faces
While their white knuckled grips
Are about to snap the steering wheel into pieces
Some faces smile back
Share a moment with a grin
And a come hither flirt that flies from eye to eye
Mutual seduction instantaneously
Two cars passing
In the night
David Trudel © 2012
backseat windows
as a child I would lock eyes with other kids
captive in the back seats of station wagons
hurtling down freeways
or slowrolling through clogged streets
I would lock eyes
trying for some kind of psychic connection
anticipating a future meeting
hoping that decades later
our eyes would remember a moment held between us
briefly as a hummingbird’s visit and just as sweet
when we were young it was easy for me
seeing the world from inside the safety glass of the family car
innocence was as easy as unlocked doors
knowing who lived in each house on the block
and who’s mother made the best cookies
I thought that everyone else was as safe as I was
in those days before I knew about torture
about abuse and cruelty
punches that split skin
and the weight of undeserved guilt
perversions frequent as autumn rain
for too many, too young
too terrible
now, in this future of punched out walls
I wonder what happened to them
I try to recollect those faces
dredged images from ripped memories
some of those eyes must have been shrieking in their silence
calling for sympathy or salvation
locked in rolling hells
moving closer to the next indignity
while I worried about a music lesson I hadn’t practiced for
if I could return to those moments
I wouldn’t challenge fragile eyes with directness
I‘d look at you obliquely and offer you my passing tears
I’d applaud you for carrying on
holding your head up as you looked out at a world
that held more sins than miracles
I would unlock my eyes from the illusion
I would try to see your truth
not mine
David Trudel © 2015
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Tagged as abuse, blank verse, cars, child abuse, childhood, creative writing, creativity, depression, free verse, freeways, guilt, innocence, lost innocence, peace, poetry, sadness, sexual abuse, social activism, social commentary, station wagons, truth, universal peace