Wednesday, February 9, 2011


A hand brushes over the dashboard
Rough texture inside out
Faux leather appeal, superficial and real
Too many scents of varying fragrance
The pleasant aromas go undetected
Stopping short of their intention

The wheel is wrapped in a similar skin
Broken patterns alternate
From wrist to thumb, to wrist again,
Almost ready to depart, just one more thing,
Teeth dangle from the palm, scraping softly on the ring,
Upon ignition piston’s fire, chirping lights to spawn desire,
 Anticipation’s ablaze within, balanced by learned patience,

The glass, washed and cleaned, tempered finite,
Strange reflection from it gleams
 A nick in the glass, a crack to the shield,
 A stressor is discerned,
 The unfamiliar in a pristine world,
A pebble, so gray and small, its spider web rippling out,
The tiniest of blemishes loom, casting doubt, what to do,
 Stock emotions, overwhelming and severe,
A juxtaposition of uncertainty and fear

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