Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Sometimes you hang back

from the moment when it douses
your insides like icewater;

words come too real and too quick
the way the back end of a slowed vehicle

approaches your helm
as you glide into them

on Kingshighway on a Thursday afternoon,
hands on nothing but the wheel.

(Man invented the wheel
and this is where it got us.)

Road combines with whatever-God
and there is quiet

in the long second before
impact, when we know it will happen.

We know that instead of two great
crushing objects it will be

a thousand tiny parts connecting
and shattering and twisting

out of their old familiar
unscathed shape.

That’s what the wreck is like,
that’s what loving you is like.

We are perpetually caught
in that second of just-before.

The brakes lock--
the brakes always lock--

and we enter that glide
with certainty, resignation, decided

long before the street got wet.
Ok, we figure.

Let’s ride this out
and see what the damage is.

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