The Drive to Work

On the highway that climbs then turns
In the spot where there is a smattering
Of flowered covered crosses marking
Anonymous undisclosed losses as we
Daily streak past, reminders it can all
End now, today, tomorrow our life
Becoming a tilted marker anchoring
Plastic flowers, faded photos, messages
She was loved and will be greatly missed

The eighteen wheeler barrels past
Seemingly seconds behind a pick up
Truck who mistakenly believes the left lane
Is for those who follow the rules, follow
The limits of the designated speed on this
Curve, this stretch of highway where
Strangers die, where we remind ourselves
This is the spot where everyone is killed
Where that pick-up is pressing its luck

The truck must see the semi daring it to
Get going, go faster, move aside, it must feel
All those wheels inching precariously close
Suspended in time those gaudy crosses
Hopeful warnings that life can move too fast
The pressure to get out of the way lost on that
Pick-up truck with a driver who someone loves
Whose plans wait at the end of the road, not at the
Side, only to be an accusation from the dead

One thought on “The Drive to Work

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