by Janet Kuypers
fand our life is one big road trip now
and we set the cruise control
and make our way down the expressway.
and most of the time we're just moving
in a straight line, and the scenery
blurs. there's nothing to see
but I know what's inside you and I
know what you're made of. I know
there's no such thing as a calm with you
you are a fantastic car crash. you stop
traffic in both directions as the gapers gawk and
the delay grows and they slow down and stare
everything shatters with you, you know.
it's a spectacular explosion. I try
to duck and cover as metal flies
through the air. and every time you leave
the scene of the accident
I am left picking up the shards of glass
from the windows. you know, the glass breaks
into such tiny little pieces. they look like
ice. it takes so long to pick up the pieces
even though I'm careful
I'm still picking up the pieces
and I'm still on my knees
and the glass cuts into my hands
and the blood drips down to the street.
think of it as my contribution
to this fantastic car crash
that is you, that is me, that is us
as I pull the glass from my hands
and I wave my hand to the line of traffic:
go ahead, keep driving, this happens
all the time, there's nothing to see here
Last updated August 16, 2011