[Natural Histoy, Joseph Beuys, 1982]
Emptiness is not a void, but a vast space full of choices–Ushio Amagatsu
She’s a shrew. Brassy. Goddam strong.
The car needs fixing. At least we have gas.
I put it in there,
that’s the reason we are moving.
Step on it.
I won’t buckle in.
My head is straight on.
I won’t look at the back of her head
or touch the edge of her skirt
as I change gears. Just drop her off.
I won’t say anything.
I’ll play my music.
She’s ugly and discompassionate.
If I can only make it to September.
I will be all mine. I can disappear
into my ideal. It’s all I have.
I don’t trust her
I never have. She’ll leave.
I’m nothing to her.
She would be happy without me
I have so much work to do I’m scared of my
body not sure it will make it must keep going no other choice just work.
I watch out the window.
I see the cragginess of trees,
their lush growth,
each different kind of leaf.
One is huge, covered with white flowers.
It seems a large woman at a wedding
I feel how sharply
I keep the back of my head to him
as he drives. I want
to swing on the branches of that one. Jump
out of the car at 60 miles an hour, roll
like a circus clown and pop
up to catch the branch.
Outside the window, everything is a blur
unless I force myself to look carefully.
Remember that’s all you have.
When you stop doing it,
there is nothing
I can’t get out.
I have to go.
Locked in the frame of this speeding car.
Locked in the frame of what I thought.
I get out
as I would from a bus.
I close the door and walk away
with my back to the bus,
dropping white flowers
on black asphalt.