Driving alone
down broken city byways
trafficking bobbing heads,
laughing prisoners,
hollow-minded zombies dead to feel,
I realize I’m incapable of response.
I realize I’ve always driven
among hypnotized souls,
following,
turning,
merging,
braking,
a willing participant in pigeon-holed jams.
We haul no intention.
We map no aim.
Steer-happy lab rats
traversing Point A to B,
ignoring destinations labeled Purpose,
ignoring moments free of dictated arrival,
ignoring landmarks in lieu of acceleration.
We’re rut makers on four wheels,
stymied by side streets,
confused by rolling hills,
bewildered by fields stretched empty,
content to funnel home.
We’ve always driven together alone,
happy for the company we’ll never know.
BAF
No comments:
Post a Comment