Carwash

The New Republic

You have read:

0 / 8

free articles in the past 30 days.

Already a subscriber?

Log in here

sign up for unlimited access for just $34.97Sign me up

BOOKS MAY 28, 2008

Carwash

I love the iridescent tricolor slime

that squirts all over my Honda in random

yet purposeful patterns as I sit in the semi-

dark of the "touch-free" carwash with you.

Listening to the undercarriage blast, I think,

"Love changes and will not be commanded."

I smile at the long flesh-colored tentacles waving

at us like passengers waving good-bye.

Water isn't shaped like a river or ocean;

it mists invisibly against metal and glass.

In the corridor of green unnatural lights

recalling the lunatic asylum, how can I

defend myself against what I want?

Lay your head in my lap. Touch me.

By Henri Cole

share this article on facebook or twitter

posted in: books

print this article

SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS

You must be a subscriber to post comments. Subscribe today.

Back to Top

SHARE HIGHLIGHT

0 CHARACTERS SELECTED

TWEET THIS

POST TO TUMBLR

SHARE ON FACEBOOK