Everything Always Changes ½ Way Thru


Making new grooves

I slide headlong.

The gravel spits behind me.

Drinkers, squatters,

shadier dealers sometimes

choose this road,

but today it is mine.


While the trees split before me.

My clandestine copilots

neglect to appear.

Had they I’d never noted

So focused was eye.

And my ear

never tuned to

that insistent whispered fear.

Though my only aim was


I knew my own defenses.

Lest I crash or drown


Enjoyment’s conclusion;











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