hood ornaments for dead cars

how much longer
do you have left until
the junk yard calls you "figment"? 
a dream inside the belly of a machine. 
up the street i watch as cars 
are made into promise rings
which is to say they are unkept.
portals to whatever future you can crush.
the upholstery blooming
with worms & their lovers.
parables written in switch blade songs.
rust coming like ruffles. how do you
want to be adorned when you die?
i want to be decorated 
like paper plate macaroni art.
bring the ghost children & the birds
to my face & tell them i was a vehicle.
we drove as far as the world would let us.
glued jaguars to our foreheads 
& tore holes in the wind.
headlights scooping sunrise 
from the eyesockets of the universe.
it is all about what you can escape with.
i always filled my pockets with coins.
planted seeds in my thighs.
so many little trees bearing just
one golden apple at a time. the junk yard
is what i know a heaven is. 
mushrooms telling over & over
the story of the universe. one says,
"let's start at the beginning"
then, sung in a round, they speak again.
me in the shattered glass of an oldsmobile.
goodbye says the maple. goodbye says
the rubber. goodbye says the hood ornaments
who dream of a miniature village
where they could hold their weddings.