Morning Commute
Driving in to work on the highway
A split-second vision of a flat stone
Frisbeeing from the rear tire
Of the oblivious car in front of me,
Its surface a shiny mosaic
Of onyx black and reptilian green
Like the scutes of a turtle shell
Whacking against my chassis
And then the sparrow scuttering
Out of the way just in time
As I veered down the off ramp
To a brief stop at a red light
Where bees were swarming in the swale
Around lilacs lazing in the late summer breeze
Dizzy in the drunkenness of third bloom
And then, just ahead, passing
Penitential geraniums slowly browning
In stone-cosseted flower beds
Embellishing ugly corporate signs
Before finally pulling into an empty space
As the engine clicked and wound down
While watching in the rearview mirror
A couple leaning into one another
Outside their car in the parking lot
Of the suburban hospital where I work
Blanched faces, bodies soft-slumped
Against each other in awkward collision
Processing some shared affliction
Like two mortally wounded trees
Propping one another up
After a summer cyclone
Has otherwise decimated the land.
Such tragedies in overlooked places
Unbeknownst to anyone else
Without anyone ever noticing.
The tiniest slivers of love clinging together
When faced with the alternative
Of having to go it alone.
Well, that’s it
I can only hold on so long
That’s all I remember
The rest of the day a routinized blur
Of charts and numbers and familiar faces
But as I turned and walked for the door:
The wind begins to gust
The grass bends
The hospital stands still.
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