When the urgencies of my drive-by evenings
slices through the frail skin of roads
and my eyes bleed into a blur,
I let go of the wheel
towards somewhere solemn spaces dance
as I quiver in the refuge of my
trembling at my own forgetfulness.
Because the world only stops when I remember.
And i can’t.
Everything always ends halfway.
In that middle street where I can’t see
where I started and where I would end—
Everything is a hanging bridge I’m too afraid to cross.
Because the strings always betrayed me
will always betray me
Still, the rearview mirror breaks
each time the dawn finds it way on my radio.
And I let my sadness drive.
I let my sadness drive.