The Delivery-Driver and the Highway
©November 16th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
When you fly down the highway
Stationary in your car, carrying
Fancy lunches for rich children,
Time ceases to have meaning.
Still, you check your clock often.
The odometer brightly indicates
That time has passed, since
Velocity occurs in space and time.
And yet you sit motionless, staring ahead,
Checking behind, and sides, while
Others move with you, all gazing forward.
Listen to music, or sing out loud,
Yell at the top of your lungs,
And whisper beneath your breath.
Finish conversations you began
Within you, long ago in your past.
Clear your mind of cobwebs,
And feel free, so free, beyond
The reach of others seeking you.
And all the while, zooming across the
State line, you leave the ghost of ancient trees
And ancient beasts hanging in the air
Behind you, your tailpipe a taunt.
A stunned landscape approaches.
You gasp.
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