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Asleep At The Wheel
He was riding shotgun next to me
the whole time, I see now:
The misty tendrils winding across my path;
the trees leering over the twisting roads;
the rain softening the windshield;
the slick surface of the pavement;
the blurring of the edge of vision;
the oncoming headlights.
He places a lover's hand on my
knee: Steady, now;
The world turns slow and hazy
will-o'-the-wisps float through the mist
murky through the fog in my eyes.
I rest my head on his shoulder.
In dreams, I hear their voices:
they reproach me for the ease
with which the softedged world slips by.
They say There is better than this,
The blur between rain and tree shadows.
The rain has stopped. I have recognized
the passenger who sits so close beside me.
He unwinds himself from me,
unwrapping pale tender arms and long fingers
from around my waist. He gives me
a chaste kiss on the cheek.
You must learn to dance, he says
and disappears into the new-washed world.
The car slides to a halt and
sighs into sleep, shuddering.
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