Driving down country roads,
i see your kind...
slow.
calculated.
Always so focused on the destination,
that the journey and its perils
get lost along the way.
near death experiences dodge you
but
there will always be that
ONE traveler
just as focused as you
and they will not stop
when your paths cross.
They will crush you,
crack you open like an
egg fallen on the asphalt of
a church parking lot on Easter morn.
I will pick up your corpse from the road
out of respect and remorse.
I hope i see you in time to pick you up
like God in the the footprints poem
and carry you to your destination.

05/28/2008

Posted on 05/28/2008
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