Black ribbons of road
That I trail ad infinitum, ad decorum,
Have never, once, yet, dealt to me
The bruising blow to the gullet
Stabbed nails to the hand -
Moment of horrified self:
That turns up on an intermittent, infrequent basis
and wakes me to the tolling bell
of all that I was, before, am, now, of all that I could have been, after.
Blindsided, pounding foot after foot
coursing, surceasing, that unforgiving asphalt.
The moon that I would howl to
indeed mocks at my broken toes,
the coldness with which she caresses my face
seeps through to my larynx
choking me off, again.
Heaven help me, again.
Dear God, I'm here again.
Wake up, girl, gently, she cries.
'Its snaky acids hiss'.
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