Two lanes of whirring cars
I teetered on the edge of misery
My arms extending— I'd wished to be a butterfly.
The metallic shrill they left
In the dust of their coarse,
Unforgiving wheels
Sang like a sheet of notes
Strung into a nostalgic minor chord.
As if playing catch,
I swayed from side to side.
‘How low would I need to go
Before I’d get hit?’
I didn’t get far enough to know.