wheels, take 2....and 3.

Another 2 versions- still don't know which is better:

it is 10 p.m.,
and the car-less road invites me
to become a vehicle
and to teach my feet to spin.

i will walk here for some time,
dodging thoughts
and shifting gears
until i tire.

but roads are made for wheels,
not people,
and how long might feet rotate, anyway?
wheels, i know they'll come
eventually,
and my feet won't stand a chance.

and my ankles turn to antifreeze,
as my motor calmly hums
a lullaby my mom would once recite:
"goodnight, sleep tight," it murmurs.
"don't let the bedbugs bite."

"do everything that's right,"
the motor moans, and,
"pleasant dreams," it sighs.
but pleasant dreams run silent
as i tie the tongues of thought,
and succumb to the night sky.

and i am tempted
to park myself right here
sprawl on asphalt
and lose myself in stars--

or headlights?

the wheels are coming,
and i am not afraid.

no, i am not afraid of broken glass,
just that it will shatter without sound.
no, i am unafraid of skid marks,
i am content lazing on the ground.

the wheels are coming.
my feet cannot compete,
and do not want to.

the wheels are coming,
let them come.

i simply do not feel like going.

for the sky is glowing, the air is clear.
let them come,
'cause on a night as fair as this,
i haven't any fear.

that is why
empty roads are deadly,
more deadly than a cairo highway.

that is why
we will end up in a junkyard,
or, possibly a graveyard.

because roads are made for wheels,
not people,
and i know wheels will come eventually.


-------------------------------------

it is 10 p.m.,
and the car-less road invites me
to become a vehicle
and to teach my feet to spin.

i will walk here for some time,
dodging thoughts
and shifting gears
until i tire.

but roads are made for wheels,
not people,
and how long might feet rotate, anyway?
wheels, i know they'll come
eventually,
and my feet won't stand a chance.

my ankles turn to antifreeze
and my motor calmly hums
a lullaby my mom would once recite:
"goodnight, sleep tight," it murmurs.
"don't let the bedbugs bite."

the time is now
the motor says
to fade out of commission
but i only long for a collision
so from a croon
i might explode
into a ballad.

"do everything that's right,"
the motor purrs, and,
"pleasant dreams," it moans.
but pleasant dreams run silent
as i tie the tongues of nightmares,
and flesh begs to be bone.

and i am tempted
to park myself right here
sprawl on asphalt
and lose myself in stars

or headlights?

the wheels are coming
and i am not afraid

no, i am not afraid of broken glass,
just that it will shatter without sound.
no, i am unafraid of skid marks,
i am content lazing on the ground.

the wheels are coming.
my feet cannot compete,
and do not want to.

the wheels are coming,
let them come.

i simply do not feel like going.
for the sky is glowing, the air is clear.
let them come,
'cause on a night as fair as this,
i haven't any fear.

that is why
empty roads are deadly
more deadly than a cairo highway

that is why
we will end up in a junkyard
or, possibly a graveyard

because roads are made for wheels,
not people,
and i know wheels will come eventually.