Shushes the trucks cars delivery vans
guardrails and trees falling sideways
broken by the wind of a pandemic
keep driving look for the easy exit alone
not dead yet I can read the small words
bolted to a big gray truck contains human
burial matter this life the one I mapped
out planned for years ago with such certainty
I even put up bookshelves that sway inside me
collapse everything is a forest of question
marks test it burn it this material life I change
lanes turn on the radio look for the off ramp
pull over mask up gas up the only body I have
and question the living language of my life

July 8, 2021