..... poetry .....




As I drive,
   my sense of place is in flux,
   toggling back and forth
   between states of
   motion, and
   moving stasis.

My sense of space,
   insulated by
   thoughts and conversation,
   music and food,
Creating a bubble of
   air-conditioned, traveling comfort.

Until I experience—

That sense of
   time and motion,   
   moving faster than
   my frail body
   can absorb.

What happens when
   four-legged creatures
   confuse their orbit with
   four-wheeled projectiles?
I have absorbed
   deer, cow, raccoons, skunks,
   and threats from other species,
That have put me into—


Does an invisible pedestrian
   jaywalking at night,
   dressed in all-black,
   who angrily swings and connects
   with my car,


Inanimate objects
   sent into animation,
   simultaneously re-igniting
   my sense of terror and awe,
Like a shovel impersonating
   a majorette's baton,
   flying by my car
   on a scenic highway.


Sometimes larger objects,
   as if returning drunk from a frat party,
   lose their way
   and pass out
   in the oddest of places,
Like an abandoned car,
   left sideways on a
   darkened freeway in the rain.
I narrowly missed it by inches,
   answering the question:
   What does a heart attack actually feel like?

My sense of
   Time, and

irrevocably altered by



September 2018




©2018, Michael Smolens