Tim Tipton

Going Nowhere

Mother is at the wheel of her yellow

Porsche rolling down a California street

The son is tired and anxious

They are looking for a new home, a better home

near the mountains, near a good school,

away from the past, far away from family,

but the organization of finding one has no

shape or sense, everything is at the mercy

of random energy, taking us every which way

The search has brought us down a long

throat of a road swallowing them up

Behind them, a liquid light morning, at the

windshield a handsome hitchhiker with

cool white teeth tries seducing a ride

If the mystery is solved, the case is dropped

in the case of finding a home, the mystery is

never solved, so the case keeps on. Keep

coming up. Over and over again.

Asleep at the wheel

Shaking lines

Broken lines

Yellow lines

Solid line

Double line

Broke down

Broke down

Hitching for gas

In the dark

Stranded

Road signs

No cars, some cars

The sanctity of headlights

And turn signals

Searchlight

Spotlight

Flashing light

Carburetor

Regulators

Internal combustion

The loneliness of

The California night.