cruise control

we became a lowercase animal,
the car & knuckles & knees.
the glove box a second mouth 
where i kept my name. i drove
too long. the terrain taking us. 
all highways lack location; 
a sunoco station & another
& another with it's roots 
all red & made
of gasoline. in new york sometimes
they pump the gas for you.
a man with oil-stained fingers
wipes the windshield clean.
one great big eye, a cyclops we are.
i looked for found more beasts like us,
the airplanes' flukes slapping clouds,
what kind of environment could
the sky be today? the ocean 
floor with the coral blinking green.
small subtle things reminded
me of being human. cruise control
was something my father taught me,
he'd click it on relax his legs
as the creature took control.
i imagine in all our reincarnations
that eventually we all come back
as a cruise control spirit,
a body crouched under the dashboard
carefully pushing the pedal. 
set for 75mph, my father would 
say this was too fast. the climate
of the speed limit. the trees
agree & gave up on us. street lamps,
an invasive species. all the miles
of brake light insects a swarm 
on the tongue of Goethals bridge. 
taste like cinnamon to someone.
i thought for a moment that maybe
there were no more places to stop.
that i would just keep traveling,
my chest filled with axle,
taking the blood out of me for
more engine room, a thrumming 
made of bone. another whale,
another whale, breaching full
of red & green flashing eyes. 
of course you can't use cruise
control forever & especially 
not in traffic. i knew i was
alive because i thought to call him,
ask him where he was while i 
was a road. i worried that while
i wasn't looking he might have
become of a cruise control spirit,
his wide coarse fingers pressing
down on the pedal. of course 
he's not, his in the rocking
chair in the sunroom, the pedal
operator is someone else. 
i thank them by finding 
my way home.