Can I claim the ease of undoing
Today my car moves with a mind of its own
Over the speed bumps of language
It follows the lisps of the road
Until it too becomes an accent unknown
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Filed Under
Can I claim the ease of undoing
Today my car moves with a mind of its own
Over the speed bumps of language
It follows the lisps of the road
Until it too becomes an accent unknown
Comments (6)
dare I say, I miss driving. not the act per se, but the solitary space that it affords. thanks for the kind words on my defunct blog. hope the season finds you well!
i wish cars could drive over water. sit in the middle of the pacific, eat a sandwich, then mosey back home.
I think what you are saying is you want to take up boating
boating but without the prohibitive costs oft associated with it. connie, remind me, why is it that you stopped writing?
Oh man. That is a tough question to consider after what was a long and defeating day. You made me tear up. The cop out answer is lack of time. The more truthful answer is that I’m less willing to make myself vulnerable these days. It’s a hard balance, no?
I’m sorry, Connie. There is definitely an honesty in your poetry that bares what I try to hide in riddles. The vulnerability makes it more meaningful. Ahh well. My mind is a mess these days. A 10 year hiatus looks more and more appealing.