Honeycomb Havoc (crossroads)

The ground is sticky, morbid, and sweet?
Like… well, it’s a lot like you.
The constant humming penetrates my every pore like
Central air in east Texas.
The octagons work their magic
Each one
A home
that someone or
Some thing
Could call an abode.
Humbly, I reach for my phone, press the speed dial to call you
At that moment I need to hear your smile
I know I’ve said this before
Once, twice, who knows how many times but –
I’d appreciate it if you re-recorded your message to
Laughter, please.

The air is not thick, but creamy
Rather like vegetable broth mixed with goat’s milk.
The honey of the ground sticks between my antennae
My feelers.
I’m trapped –
Trapped in a feeling of remorseful bliss.
I call again
This time your voicemail sounds incredulous.
Seriously.
But,
How could I expect anything different
I know what you’re thinking
- at least -
I know what I think you’re thinking
This doesn’t happen.

Well the hive disagrees.
The leaves come off branches one by one or
Two by two.
It’s death that comes in threes
My feet move slowly along the intersection
Four brilliantly faded octagons
Blaring different blends of bland red.
I stand alone, remembering
Traffic signs, safety laws and driver’s education.
I don’t think it’s ever been this hot
1:30 AM.

The illusions of bees crumple but their stings
Replace themselves with themselves at the soles of my feet
The asphalt quakes beneath my beer-battered loins
I begin to weep.
Not aloud, mind you, just the beginning stages.
Again with the phone
This failure, I throw it
In a fit
Quite literally I’m raging against a mindless machine.
The night is upon me more than I can bear as my eyelids beg me for sleep.

Talking out loud, I’ve convinced myself that
I’ve breached the boiling point for blood
Now I’m praying to anyone’s god that some drunk driver
Some blundering buffoon runs me down.
The sweat from my neck now salts my tongue as the temperature goes
Skyward.
The phone rings.

It lights up the street signs of the intersection of my demise of the third of the month.
I’m yelling, that I’m stuck between Hell St. & Hot Water Blvd. Sinking
Sinking into asphalt.
I’ve gone mad.

My mouth is so dry that I proceed to lick the
Sweat off of me.
Quite like a cat or, well… just a cat.
All of a sudden I see beams of light
Magical mystical mysterious light.
It allows me to cool down as my thighs show themselves
To me above the pavement.
I missed you I say.
I run.
At first it’s in place but soon
I’m out.
Moving towards.
Somewhere.
I run towards the first place I’ve ever felt
Comfortable within myself.

That’s how I got here.
That’s the acid trip of a life I’ve had to get into your arms.
So please… shh…
Let me close my eyes so I can hear your smile.