it’s just the driving
you want to do.
or not even so much
the driving
as
the going.
you invent reasons
to go.
invent things that need
to be done,
lessons
that your children
will learn.
reasons
to again wake
into the glimmering
and uncertain
day,
to again
get to going.
you look forward to
getting
to the where,
but that rubs off
like the thin sheen
of dust
that coats everything.
and soon you can’t wait
to leave the place
you couldn’t wait
to get to.
it’s the going
that you like,
the moving,
the motion.
the gas tank
is full
and you aren’t yet
broke.
the tires have
enough tread
so you can
forget about them.
the engine runs
well enough.
the oil doesn’t today need changing.
the road spools out
in front of you,
stick straight
or erotic
and wavering.
you have reason enough
to go, so
you go.
you have no reason at all
to go, so
you go.
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