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.