I remember sneaking away,
from Captain Planet and his friends,
hiding myself inside the ocean,
of a big blue Oldsmobile.
Curled up into cold,
floorboards, “quiet and still,”
waiting for her to ignite,
the loud engine of my delivery.
I tarry long to the threshold
the point where turning back
won’t make sense anymore.
“quiet and still.”
But I can’t see that point.
I only hear the dull roar of the road.
I only memorize each bruise and gash.
I trust I’ll know it when I feel it.
In my strange boyhood logic,
if I wait long enough, “quiet and still”
the world I wish for will be mine
all thanks to my cunning.
I never stopped to wonder
why the doors were never locked.
“Quiet and still. Quiet and still.”
until the big reveal.