The Gold Afterburn
Salvadore, Frida
and Vincent
go into a bar.
This is America.
They're promptly
asked
to leave.
The car was as full
of prayer and profanity
as Texas sky is full
of planets and stars
floating in smoke
and blue
bloody tears.
Cigarettes, flaming giraffes
and your buzzsaw breath
tipped the lightning jug
over all our
constellations.
The story dissolved
the map; no surprise
everyone got lost.
A wheel or two
may have fallen off
in the gold
afterburn,
and the halos,
but all you need to
roll on that road
is an engine that burns
the laughter
of
of
the mad.
October 2020
posted for Fireblossom
Images: The Flames, They Call © Salvadore Dali, 1942 Fair Use
Image via internet, author and title unknown Fair Use
