Jake's Flea Market

so there’s these eyes right

blue eyes
and brown eyes and grey eyes and
there’s green eyes they 
look in through the windshield

but you keep quiet in the shadows 
behind the pulse of the engine that drives
the van like
from between the seats in front right

mom’s in the driver’s seat she’s
got her hands on the steering wheel
and she talks like hers is the voice of god she
reads the bible from her hand like
it’s the roadmap to your destiny

she’s got your soul in her custody
and she drives the paddy wagon to the cells
in the guardhouse of heaven
and you know she’s going to serve you like
to the eternal sentence right

the steel floor moves beneath you it
gathers speed and
dad says there’s good years on the rims but
voices of children who
play in the street
outside your world inside the tin walls are 
howled to silence
by the tires on the pavement

as you watch the movements of the sun
the moon and the stars in the back windows as you
start to chart the way of your return
to the berth you’ve left behind
the van turns like
a corner and the back windows become like 
empty screens right

as the sun slants and the light flows
horizontal there's
a blanket of a shadow
around you like a sanctuary
from the unknown
outside you
curl yourself fetal
in a sleeping dream of waking
free and lost at last
to a morning that’s like
too bright for eyes
that haven’t seen the sun right