Zen Zen

He finds her on the highway. A victim of hit and run. Her heart a blackened and dried smear against the asphalt. Her teeth sink firmly into the treads of his tires.

It's a dirty road, a dirty world. His badger claws tear her soul from the pavement. Put her up on those spinning wheels. The engine a thrumming hunger.

A crescent is severed with the glass from a red pane. Yellow words promise moth proofing, antique jewlery and guns. It's the turn of her phrase that pulls you along, threading the needle between the sidewalk and the curb. She traces her finger along the edge of a carnelian fish, its creamy belly promising wishes, lies, dreams.

They turn into the chocolate shop, hold out paws for golden shells, lips, caresses. She has no need for meat or whiskey, only thick chocolate and warm blood.

She rides before you. The silvery discs of her eyes spinning in the halogen light. Her body is coated with butter black leather and sharp white teeth.

Don't tell me about the winter of her blood, the warmth between her thighs, her knifeblade cutting a smile along your jawline. Does she still dance straight on, neither to the left nor the right, one foot in front of the other as if she doesn't know you are there?

On the back of the hardware store Anarchy rains, dripping off the red brick in sorry scribbles. The yuppies comsume fish stew for breakfast while in the darkness of a short stack, the less fortunate wander. Everyone she meets is named Chainsaw or Fingers. Everyone smells of leather and oil.

The only thing she understands here is the cold moon. The icy heat on her face, smoke, oil, exhaust, chrome-like delicious pastry, vivid black paint, flash of spokes and the green scent of the river, moving slow and ominous beside the road.

She wears her words like Christian medals, warding off the cars of mindless drivers, flashing amber, then red, then green. In front of her rides the badger, his snarl a badge of restless rhythms.

Flesh and tar flare under the ripe sun. Over the freeway flies the black crow.

You tell me you want to meet her. Then meet her on the road.

Her eyes reflect the highway, or nothing at all.

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