Life At 70 Miles An Hour - Poem by Dwight Jenkins
I am just a small part of this larger thing we call 'life, '
A collection of old stones from a foundation
Long overthrown, and now overgrown
With life of another tone.
I used to think I owned one of my own, a life,
Like the dead home I just passed so fast,
In the travelling blink of an eye.
I have no windows, no roof, no walls:
I am open to all,
And I can feel someone expertly pressing
Fresh mortar between my bones.
I am being rebuilt from the basement up...
@ 70 Miles per hour.
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