Conveyer Belt

A Poet

As I look out on the traffic filled

Streets I apprehend the spinning

By imagining the road is a conveyer belt

And the cars are in park

And when I get too dizzy

I find myself in the checkout lane

Where the grocery store clerk

Looks at me like I’m crazy

When I tell her these apples

have wheels on them

Have you ever thought about how heavy air is?

The strongest man on earth

Might be able to lift a car

But would throw his back out

Trying to raise the space in between

And that’s what falling feels like

The colors of the trees are changing again

And the leaves have never looked more beautiful

Than when they’re about to die

For they do not resist gravity

The way we do

The way we grasp onto ourselves

So we don’t fall from ourself

Into ourself

I look away from the cars in park at 60 miles an hour

And tell myself that sanity

Is not for the sane

And I feel as open as a door that is locked

When I remember that I cannot walk through myself

And falling is an illusion the leaves are not victim of

So I see myself drifting off of a tree

And instead of trying to lift the air

I let it decide where I land

And when the first blanket of snow

Covers me it does not offer warmth

But I won’t resist the bite

of the bitter cold

For it will only go away

If I return it with benevolence

And see it’s cruelty as a kindness

For the road to hell may be paved

with good intentions

But the elevator to heaven

Needs maintenance

And the devil does quite a good job at it

Because the conveyer belt

does not look like it’s moving

Without a car parked on top of it

And the car cannot drive without the solidity of the road

Now Reading
Conveyer Belt
Read Next
June