06 Nov
coffee & windows rolled down, taking in
the smell of road-apples on steaming asphalt
while the sun declares its freedom to bake
my lobster-red arm 
feels fine to flow at 65
over the pitted zigzagging Amish trails
shunning the black buggies from the 18th century-

I think, 'it's all about choices' but 
is that true? --I tune the station to seek
the smooth stuff to sway my ducking
& weaving the threaded needle
passing to the left, right, and through the eye
unfettered by a thousand piddly thoughts
occupying my optics to blink a crash--

I race against the fringes
of opaque unruly life, 
and the unfathomable human 
show of being
a chooser.

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Posted by on November 6, 2021 in Poetry



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