This is a poem I wrote after driving home from the supermarket this afternoon. I really don't want to give anyone the wrong idea by writing this, particularly not my wife who has tendency enough to worry. But such is the poet's life, we must say truthfully what we think and feel.
Driving Alone
Often when I'm driving alone
Out on the East End
Heading into a curve
It's like Jackson Pollack
I feel trying to maintain
A firm grip on the wheel
Life is such a tenuous thing
And we are each of us
In a continual struggle
To keep both eyes and hands
And all four wheels squarely
On the road in front as we go
Sunday, August 19, 2012
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