I don’t know about you
but nostalgia
no longer has any traction
in my life.
Those treads are worn bare.
There are a few bits of rubber
laid down on the road
out of my old life
but, by and large
the new life has a discrete start
and from the perspective
of the old blacktop
you can’t get there from here.
Why would I yearn, anyway,
for a back road so full
of potholes
and in such disrepair?
Not that I have any illusions
they aren’t still plenty of detours ahead
but I love to drive
after years of sitting in neutral.
Slut of the Cloth 
Leave a Reply