Hell

you get used to driving down the road
ahead of yourself
the thoughts come like battering rams
and mess with silence
there goes Santa Barbara and the university
and here come
the outposts roadside synagogues
where you may stop
to take a whiff of sweet wine
or light a candle for the dead

hell you say?
yeah because of stuff
hell and her arms full of pride and
his usual line of shit

hell’s bells
over in the vineyard hard labor
when the trucks pull in

she said I spent three months in the hospital
after my fall

you go running up the coast
to visit zombies

the hell you say—
I am a surfer on dust and ash
the drive is never easy
because all the endings end in sorrow
no matter

you’d think things would be better
what with science and advanced ways
of thinking

you’d think men hate learned hate
doesn’t pay—oh I have miles to go
before I sleep and promises I’ll never keep
just on account of love

it’s hell out there on the road
wait and see when I drag you along

you can sit beside me when we stop
for gas
follow me into the restaurant
for lunch

we may turnoff the highway and
take a little known road
to the center of it all
here where flames shoot out of the earth
and rocks glow like coals

remind me to never grow up
despite decrepitude
remind me that my young boy friends
either hung themselves or died of drugs

I’ll be sure to adore what remains
on God’s good earth
while driving in happiness north of Paso Robles
and the fertile fields