The car was running smoothly.

Rattling
Underneath me
Were waves of jades and phosphorous
Blues tickling my imagination,
Urging me to forget the day spent toiling.

Pushing memories away from myself,
A mustard stained cloud
Shouted rays of white down through my windshield.
Fluttering eyelash wings shook
Hastily over blood-shot pupils hot from a knot
Deep in my stomach, my back, my thighs.
Below me, the bridge continued to rattle.

Off over and through the tunneled vision of commerce,
Questions arose in me that I could not answer.
Answers are remedies to an illness called "Why?"
Being free to live is a very hard thing to come by
Leaves only achieve freedom for a moment:

The stem thins
The stem breaks
The leaf drifts in
Angelic joy and indifference,
Plummeting towards a destination
They know not of or care.

Lo', the leaf, soon enough,
Reaches the place
They were always destined to be

I turn into the driveway
The lights are off inside
I sit in the car a moment
And push the memories farther way

To say to do or to lean on say
Is a very dangerous game to play

People expect what they pay for
And even after that
They will, the next time, be expecting more

Our flesh has been on this Earth a long time
Being our home, we are surrounded by our own kind
I play in the mazes of unbalanced theories of truth
Cheeks bleeding with mother Theresa searching for her tooth

And here, in the pit of all this time and space
My age tells me that living is not a race
The finish line is there and has been there
For every man and woman of every age

I swallow a bitter bite of the thin cold air
Reading through the mist:

*Life is far harder when forced to care