S T A L L

November 8, 2016

 

 

encased  in  impasse

I couldn’t even eye the passengers

just past my papers.

I wouldn’t watch what

my window offered:

small towns, and their lights,

or when slow-mo reflections night riders

riding inside  also swept by.

continual inspections of my work,

a spread display on a tray freed before me,

confirmed    my stall  is a lock still.

Y’see, yesterday’s night

I ran nine yellow lights,

& when my dreams weren’t just right…

I must decide to just ride.

.

.

.

.

.

.

(from 5 or 6 yrs back)

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