The Commuter Diaries

These are the on and off of brake lights, these are the bits of shattered plastic strewn along the shoulder after miscellaneous fender benders and major collisions have been removed by the accompanying tow trucks. These are what come to mind on my way home because I am asleep on my way there. This is what I can remember of the poetry created in transit, fragments of songs half quoted. These are not what keep my soul alive for my flesh was alive before these came around, but they give windows of light and pockets of shade in a trudge towards a foggy distant change of circumstances. The author reserves the right to edit, revise, exalt, denigrate, and liberate from existence all entries.

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