With Hands on Wheels
Eley Williams
We tug along the cats’ eyes, thinking of you.
Below us the roadkill is a pheasant rainbowfaced, and the radio and I
Are spaniel tenors, just bawlin’, darlin’:
Sit in on our traffic jamming.
We’ll sing you the hairpins, and the zebras, and the bottlenecks.
Crested beauties, breasted cuties; yeah, I’m-a gonna do that all day ‘til you roll those pretty amber eyes right out.
To think: all these pedestrians are allowed faces, but none of them are yours!
We got you all atomised, my piñata: we always drive singing from you,
But also, somehow, always, to you.
(Kerb that thought.)
I can honestly swear, with hands on wheels, I shall think on you for miles yet.
Mindwanderlust, the radio and I;
We’re just fussing with the idea of
The burst silt of the thought of the look of you in the bypass
With our hands, untentative, ten-to-two.
This is really cool. I like the back and forth between the radio and narrator and the interruptions of the road surface breaking through the train of thought.
I also like the subversive punning of car parts/road terms.
p.s. the pic. is very cool as well. Mind if I ask where you got it/who did it?
Thanks for your comment, Adam.
Re the picture, we just got a copyright free image and played around with the contrast settings and things until we ended up with this oddity.
Woah! As I read this over I find it more and more delightfully disconcerting…
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