A Hard Left

Converging lives jockey for
position along the freeway.
Whose outstretched hands are
wetted by the wind-wrenched drizzle?
Such things no other can know.

Arms wag
like Labrador tongues;
A joyous smile reinvigorated
by nature
while thoughts of
work and responsibilities are
left in their wake.

Stop
and Go and
Stop and
Slam on the brakes.

Inertia
speeds us forward to
push the limits.
Screech to a
halt to save
your own skin
from a higher insurance rate.

Or

Miss the pedal and earn a
bruised collarbone and
emerge concussed.
Thank God for
safety features;
then curse Him for
the other driver
(thrown skyward through
shattered glass, air, and caution)
who didn’t use theirs.

by Erik Shinker

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4 thoughts on “A Hard Left

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