We're taught to love straight lines.

It's this thought I wrestle with
as the road I choose turns and winds,
it's the 25-mile-per-hour speed limit kind,
it's so slow, so ****** slow and most
folks resent the view and miss the show.

Air compresses stronger than steel
at the sight of this mirror I reel
trying to find straight lines where none exist
trying to find the steps I missed.
Movement forms a breeze
of leave, and I drive.