Roads

Driving,
driving, 
this road.

Foot on the gas,
Keep left to pass,
pushing,
pushing.

So straight,
so clear,
no traffic,
until today.

Before,
there were twists,
turns,
detours,
but I followed the signs,
and they brought me back here.

Driving,
driving,
This road.

Foot on the gas,
Keeping left to pass,
Pushing,
until today.

Distant horizon looms,
the view comes clear,
an unmarked fork.

One, lies straight, true,
with the promise of clear sailing.
The other curves,
with distant path out of view.

Looming,
approaching fast.
If I pass, and stay straight, true,
will the future all too quickly fade,
into the distant past?

Will the view in the mirror persist in memory?
Haunting, teasing.
Small reflections and ripples to remind,
at every turn, that here I lie,
on this road,
pushing,
driving,
nowhere.

© Dave Lawson, 2000

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