Going Nowhere

Going Nowhere


In the land of uranium, in the year of the cat,

with half my rack of whiskers and this quarter-inch jack,

I’m too far from my baby, in my hydrochloric vat,

with these gas station appointments and service station maps.


I’m going nowhere



Snake president’s Mercedes

drops the owls off at jail,

and pitbulls wrestle words down at the homonym sale.

U2s over Asia are rusty threaded nails

for the kilotonic Jesus on the bargain-chip rail.


I’m going nowhere


Hey, I’m going nowhere


Before this world splits like a melon

I’d like to suckle from a tree,

whose bark’s black sour venom, whose nectar is free association.


And if heaven is like Greek myths,

maybe Icarus is free,

running through an airport crying, “This time, Dad, you’ll see.”

Well, here’s a beeswax kiss for leaving;

I hope you get an aisle seat

and you’re far away from Heaven when the sky fills with its heat.


I’m going nowhere


Hey, you know me

I’m going nowhere


(Life Underwater Music, 2003)

James O'Brien