Do not break these tectonic plates beneath my feet,
they were meant for me.
I think that I was born this way,
to always sway
and never truly stand.
Like a soldier
I see the 60 sign and yet I go 40
I drag behind the bus and follow it,
wherever it may go.
I said it
Not Hungry Jacks
because I see you now on the corner
and the sting of swelling spit in my open mouth says “feed me”
I turn the corner going 40
The grocery line of cars angrily honk all the way to the horizon
I don’t know what they expected from a Tuesday afternoon
I think they’d be happy with my always 40
Why do we honk at standing still?
Why do we curse the calm before the storm?
What makes the reckoning so appealing?
Does it really take a rubble to bring the Dawn?
I think I’ll stay at 40
and eat a bloody burger while I’m at it
and I will smile, a big juicy smile
and watch as they go 100 in a 60 zone.