Roads and the Game of Dodgeball
Somewhere we got it in our heads that roads were smooth things,
nice clean paths, well paved, to where ever we choose to go.
Summer highways, beach music, top down, teenager again
avenues. Sunset strip without stoplights. Zoom zoom.
I know better now. I know how many roads wind,
how maps lie, how things fall apart and seasons change
with no relationship to time or expectations,
How walls and divots and ditches leap out at you,
and driving is less a race than a chance to show off
our ability to adapt.
About this poem
About driving, about life. Reader’s choice. A poem written about my own frustration at the start and stop of life and projects the past three years. I adapt well. That doesn’t mean I like it. I am more of pedal to the metal kind of guy. Zoom zoom.