The cartel,
However delicate,
Is running smoothly.
The back wheels are polished to be fresh and new,
The reflections of blank faces pasted on the rims
Turning so slowly that
They are bound to get stuck.
So silent in this garage
That you could hear a pin drop.
But none do.
Suede shoes clap on the concrete
Like ballroom waltzes
Five minutes before midnight
Every once in a very long while.
Footsteps sending shudders through the
Solid, frozen walls used to
Perfect, complete inanity.
So abrupt that the echoes sound more like wardrums
On defending armies locked up
Amidst wayward thoughts.
Reinforced ceilings and crossed fingers keep her safe
The echoes from her past bouncing around
From the footsteps of those that have done her harm.
Polished every day, she stays beautiful and new.
Just..... nothing like God intended.
The echoes pounding in her head,
Taking their toll on her agelessness.
I hold tight to her in my vehicle,
Polished and new.
The only way in or out.
The rims spinning slowly
As I run this cartel solo
Dealing deadly doses of reality, Save Us,
Dousing the garage in polish and reinforcing the ceilings
And only I can interpret the echoes,
Like a bat in the cave of her mind.....
She lies awake in hopes that one day
Our strength will break us out of this hole,
One day, the suede shoes will not find a way to break in.
That she will not find herself laying beneath the wheels.
That one day,
She will no longer need a Batman.
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