Inexorable Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

What is so wrong
With wanting,
Yearning passionately
To make love with
Loneliness during these times
Where the people
Usually spend days
Off to resignation,
Coiled around loves and mad men?

What is so wrong with
Driving alone,
On a humdrum afternoon,
With the Sun nowhere to be found,
The streets, muddled and
Intact with bedlam?

Let me drive alone,
Or at least run,
With a bottle of whiskey
On the passenger seat
To keep me company
During these days
Where inebriation is better
Than anything else.

The engine roars proudly,
Retorting the calmness of the heavens.
Liquor rummages down my system,
I am dead in this world,
And alive in a mindless wandering.

There’s nothing wrong here.
I am infinite.

I’ve not a single worry
About the police on my tail,
I will engulf you with
The hoarse cries of my automobile
Until these authorities tire away
Into sedentary idiosyncrasies.

I am infinite.
I am inexorable,
As I pass on
Through unconscious states.

I will wake up to the
Sound of the sirens,
Telling me that
I am still infinite.