I lift my hands from the wheel,
Calculated risk of random resignation.
Tight, smooth leather, pulled over steel,
Left on its own in search of a destination.
Adrift I wander from left to right,
To live I risk losing myself.
Running into everything called life,
I realize that I want nothing else.
Reclined I adjust my headrest,
I don’t mind the hum of the unknown.
This vehicle seems to run on stress,
That struggle to call someone ‘home’.
My life lacks alignment,
My transmission seems to be slipping.
I don’t know where I went.
All I know is that this is not living.
My surroundings are driven by traffic,
I was a young man when I sat in this car.
My direction now seems a bit pragmatic,
Maybe I’m an old man driven too far.
~Ivory
THE O COLLECTION
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