Tag: writing

i am driving when the absurdity
of everything hits me
an existential moment of
whatisallthisbullshit?

i and every other driver
hurtle down the freeway in
explosive metal coffins
to jobs we we don’t want
to do every day
the ideas of
property
ownership
money
all of it squeezes down on my chest
like a fist squeezing out the last
pea-sized drop of toothpaste
from a wrinkled tube

of course
i try to be a good buddhist
detach myself just enough to
recognize the feeling
acknowledge it
watch it pass like a leaf on the wind

it helps
it does
the squeezing goes away but it’s replaced with
a hollowness in the chest as if someone
has shoveled out
my heart
my lungs
my stomach

i’m not much of a buddhist
the tension goes away
the hollowness keeps me company

attract/repel
those are the two human choices
unless you’re really good at balancing
and i’m not

and seriously
why is she putting on eyeliner while she’s driving that fast

did any of us have the imagination
to see ourselves older
in these circumstances
and it’s the circumstances that matter
they’re the nitty gritty
all those kid daydreams about the future
were just looking at a map where you can see
the red and blue arteries pumping out blood
but so zoomed out
so zoomed out
you forget about the smell of the hot asphalt
and car exhaust

some of are trying to fly here
some of us are lucky
because we weigh less
due to local variations in gravity