Life in a Speeding Car
written by: Jeff Flaig
The road stretches like a lazy morning cat,
and the sun, half asleep between shadows,
hesitates behind hills, trees and my destination.
I seem to be the only thing in a hurry.
Bugs constantly machine-gun my windshield.
I say a small prayer relevant to their size,
and take a drink of coffee, avoiding complacency,
while staring at yellow lines too busy to count.
Farms are sewed together with precise stitches,
bordering green fields, red barns with white fences.
Makes me think of Christmas when I was young.
Everything eventually leads back to being a child.
The occasional bridge jumps over a few small creeks
from which mist rises like the dead in some horror movie.
Funny, I don’t shiver at the thought any more.
Such cause and effect are lost in preoccupation.
The further I get down this one lane highway,
the more I wish I had taken my time,
Perhaps, parked in some half lit illusion and waited
for life to catch up to my speeding car
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