Graduation traffic,
and suddenly I feel old.
“A”
“Yes.”
“What is your name?”
“A.”
And with the initial letter,
An itch to become ashes,
An extension of self,
Contact recalled and beckoning,
As the murderer in my dreams still sleeps,
Never to awake from a slumber,
Blinded by the language unable to relate.
The cat-faced fish swam in circles,
Around the flooded floor surrounding myself.
The nausea overwhelming,
If only able to press onward.
The slug ablaze transformed into a mouse,
As I awoke from another gunshot.
A landscaper making his living,
And the gated community ignored.
The reservoir fleeting,
Along with everything I thought I knew.
“Interstate 285”
Contrasting intersections and improved decisions,
Outlying the majority of my newly spent time.
Roadways previously inexperienced,
Appreciating all the more in light of everything.
Though the sun will inevitably set,
The returning wildlife, now distracted by city lights.
Abandoned stars,
Once treasured.
