I used to wonder
Where the road would
Take me but
That was before I knew
I would pave it
On my own.
Draw the map in lead
With your fingertips

We are
Cartographers.

A horsepill
when swallowed
chokes you.

I forgot
That the geese fly south
For the winter when the
Chills begin and the air crisps
And black ice freezes death traps
On back-way roads.
"V "formation is natural
To militant
Mutual survival and
I wonder if their leader was
Born or
Made.

Justice    is forgiveness
Vengeance,   benign.
Retribution feels best,
But what is right,    divine.

Hot oil burning  kernels
                      Jumping in stomachs
                                       Exploding and delicious
        Hot and   steaming    burning
Red like pokers
                Molten from flame
                                Bursting lips spark heated
Words like firecrackers.

They say
All roads lead to Rome but
In the Tristate the tracks
Bring you to New York.
This cement platform smells
Like **** but the anticipation
In the air while the crowd peers down
The track for the 6:16  p.m. Eastbound
Train to Penn you'd think
NJ transit was delivering us to
Heaven.

Black and white morals but
I live life in color and
When you put the rainbow in a blender
It all looks grey.