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nic Aug 2012
letter addressed
to the girl
too rush hour
to take the scenic route

dear fast line,
i know you didn't
choose this.
i know how hypnotizing
those yellow lines
can be but
if you keep
chasing that pavement
you'll run out of fuel
and i can't promise
your parents will
find someone like you
again.

and they'll wonder
what set your eyes
on the highway
when you come
from such a
michigan avenue father
and middle lane mother.
may i ask you
how your gps
forgot your home address?

i guess it happened
with time.
one less trip turned
to two a year.
your mothers tears
turned to sighs.

she kissed me twice
for you.
one for your forehead
another for you Ford.
may it keep you
when you go
where her God can't.

since her knees
are too soft for kneeling
she nodded toward the ceiling.
flashing God
her grin lines and gray hairs
like see, i bare stripes
just like your son.
yes i sin and i saint
but this ain't about me.
i need you to keep
my daughters.

too many fathered
ain't got fathers.
too many men
haven't figured out
the price of absence
is far more than
a gallon of gas
a six pack of beer
and a bachelor pad.

too many children
grew up with the half
the guidance.
only knowing
to trust Magellan
and Garmin
with a backseat God
who only gets to drive
when the light ain't green.

there are too many women
caught between
crash driven children
and the cross walk.

to the girl
who hasn't flashed
her break lights for miles

choose your exit wisely.

don't wait
til the last second
to switch lanes.
the end game
is much closer
than it appears
in your side mirrors.
Andy Hewitt Nov 2023
A poem for cyclists with tech.

When one is by-cycling,
And the wind is anything but charming.
The direction that doth wind blow
Is the SAME as on your Garmin.

When one is by-cycling,
And the wind propels you like a teen.
The direction that doth wind blow
Is OPPOSITE as what’s on your screen!
Composed in favourable wind conditions
Elena Smith Nov 2015
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Ottar Mar 2015
clouded sky, clouded mind
painful knees, route to find,
went to the store
in the car before
                              the run
                              the rain
one idea followed me
run the route I drove, see?
eight kilometres

less or more, I would find out
with my Garmin Forerunner 305, GPS and heart rate monitor
to prove that I am still alive,

each one point six kilometre
was faster than the one before,
oppressive clouds closing
dark and heavy

city scents gust around me
each vehicle had a different taste
as I pushed the pace,
sweat ran down my face,

faster and faster, I could not master
any speed, just quick enough to plaster
my hair against my head

hamstring want to cramp me
left one, bonus in the last stretch, I could feel the growing twinge
the right one knew better to behave,

in the end
it did end
before the rain came
before the night fell,

tomorrow, I will walk to work and back,
I will do stairs, but go ahead and as
you think of me, I give you permission
to laugh in my difficulty, as I make it
through the day, walking funny and taking stares
                                             from every one who passes my way.
go to Instagram #elverum51 or @elverum51 same story told a different way
As I write this I see you hurtling
across the delta beneath a low ceiling.
There is rain in the forecast.  Your wallet
is fat with cash and rides high in an
anxious hip pocket.  A window is cracked
to pull the smoke.  It's lunch-time and
you're checking the Garmin for a
Crackle Barrel, all the while wondering
if the casino will take a check.

— The End —