Pedal to Metal

Merging into the bumper
locked traffic of suburbanites
defaulting from office work
to domestic blahs murders
my RPMs. I’ve got to get
untracked from the regular
routes, grabbing momentum
as I jolt into the steady swing
of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” or
“Jumpin’ Punkins” set to loop.
I say driving without urgency
isn’t driving and going places
you’ve got to go isn’t going
anywhere worth the wear
and tear. Most find turn-offs,
but there’s no map-marked,
arc-lit exit up ahead for me.
I’m putting my foot down
to move faster, not to arrive,
a Citizen Car slipping around
the official signs of warning
with my speedometer proof
I’m shedding mortal inertia.
Those standing still think
I’m diminishing, but looking
out a different windshield
you’ll see me blue shifting
into whatever’s interesting
enough to be called eternity.
So nail my name to a cross
at the side of the Interstate
and let people wonder how
I could have leapt the asphalt
on a straightaway stretch of
highway. I wasn’t sleeping;
my eye was on something
far ahead and wondrous.