A slither of Spanish Moss arcs up,
dances like a snake-
but my tires pummel pavement
in the dark and windy wake

of

mankind's mechanical hand!
like a five-pronged pencil sharpener,
bringing elements into focus
by scraping them away
bit by bit,
fitting wood and stone and earth
into blue-printed plans in order to
get
whatever it is,

you want.

Two yellows lines and solid white
are all that keep me in line
tonight.
The darkness shrugs,
knows it's all
right.