Davide Balula
I put my hands on the latch
Silicone oils make leather shine
Polycarbonate dashboard
Surfactants
Volatile solvents
Vinyl unsettles in the sun
This cabin smells of new plastic
Nylon fibers skin meets its fabric
I know this glue
It’s the pink in my dreams
The seat is squeaking
Like it remembers me
Like I just said something funny
Bait. Flirt. Giggles
Dust motes in UV dance
In parallel columns
Light beams
I close the door
The air is locked
Steering wheel worn to gloss
The belt’s spring is in a mood
On second try, the buckle clicks
Rubber wraps bone
Shoe finds pedals – first
Plantar fascia follows my sole
The pressure is light
My foot’s at rest
There is no difference between weight and willingness
Metal against metal
The turn of a key makes a sentence
The machine nods
It’s a “ hum”
Vibrations climb from seat to spine
The engine is a throat clearing itself
Deeply I breathe
My nostrils lack hair
Gassing. Off gassing
Taking it all in
Aromatic benzene
Toluene, xylene rush
Rushing through Polypropylene mesh
When the shifter belongs to a thought
fumes are intentional
〰️
My heart rate matches the engine’s rhythm
Distinction blurs
Blood cells quicken
In hidden rivers
Transmission fluids
In speed
Vertebrae crush the foam
Each bone is a skipping stone
Each street is a suggestion
For bodies to drape right on a curve
Drape left on another
The muffler notes hit perfect pitch
Tires spit powder as they speak
Spitting friction is a hot topic
This friction is consensual
Tires and asphalt form non-binding clouds
Deep in my lungs
My alveoli are hospitable
The patient armrest
Pressing skin in the stillness of traffic
The sweaty palms
The bloody data conduits
The softness behind my knee
Amicable and nonchalant entry
Porous mucous
Ajar tear ducts
The sheen
The surface of my eyes
All are wounds open 24/7
Year round
I print my invites in sebum
It’s a never-ending haze party
Where microplastics drift
Unburdened by afterthought
Phthalates, Plasticizers
Endocrine-Disrupting Chemicals
All come in confetti
Leaching with a slip of a tongue
Day or night
In my body’s most somber parts
Scramble addicts
My DNA is their scrabble
Five prime to three prime
A–G–C / T–T–G / A–C–G / T–C–A
Bisphenols, Parabens, Alkylphenols
Synthetic fragrances, Dioxins and Furans
Polybrominated
Naturally Polyamourous
They’re in transit
Structurally unbound to their own plastic
Gambling with emotion and boredom
Playing poker face
Piggybacking on their electrostatic appeal
Inertly playing dress-up
Upon encountering biomolecules
Arboring sugar crystal tiaras, protein wigs and coronas, antibody pants, lipid make-up—such crude attire makes synthetic particles appear biologically familiar. This molecular disguise allows them to evade immune detection, infiltrate tissues, and disrupt hormonal function. The carnival is real. It’s called Biofouling.
This is how biofouling begins:
Not as trespass
But mimicry, as charm, as syntax fluency
You see, there is no defense against resemblance
This is not tolerance
This is misread quiet
Between the flesh and the fuel
Particles negotiate
There is no breach
There’s preference
Debris. Bus stops
Flourishing riders in the bloodstream
〰️
Elsewhere near the heart
Endothelial cells fold around a contaminant
As if folding a coat on a chair after a long journey
There are a few reasons
Why we yawn in minor chords
Why we cough in synch
In chorus
In concordance
We misunderstand oxygen
Rear view mirrors show too much sky
And muddy skies blur horizons
Saturation prefers inward
You think it’s forgiveness
But it’s just that I am full of space
My brain is a non-stick parking lot
It participates in accumulation
Not by processing
But by keeping what is shaped like memory
What was abandoned here to convince me
What entered through texture
Instead of experience and time
Bloomed residue
With you
I chase. I forget
I laugh. I nap
I sing
When my belt is on
And shift and slide
My shirt rides high
I am the driver
The passenger
I am the dust
I exhale
I exhaust
I am a system ruled
by fraudulent glitter