Wednesday, 20 April 2011


driving/i will have nightmares about this

it strikes me as far too delicate, this marriage:

the haywire physics of movement
that says "all matter is chaos", the
tender, pulsating imperfections
of poetry or heartbeats
the lines lines lines
the haughty metronome
clucking its tongue at me.
"You will go left now.
You will go

there are things that i must learn to
make a show of keeping in mind, like:
fastening seat-belts
and stopping at stop signs
and steadying the steering wheel

and then there are things i will quietly
tuck in bed behind the wheel, like:
any and all qualms i may have with things
that roll into an unmeasured distance
such as the days of the week

and every urge to stare at nothing in particular
and contemplate penning pseudo-poems
about children on bicycles

and my predisposition
(i am told it is only human)
towards things that are
statistically bad ideas
likely to lead to a litany of aches
and may cause nausea
and can
in rare cases
be fatal

like asking too many questions
or falling in love

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