Dandelion
Eyes jet between two lanes,
focused on the destination .
Lights flash and streak,
they are fireflies hitting his windshield,
leaving no mark but on his eyes.

Rum, pittle, Rum, pittle, Rum.
Braille driving keeps him awake.
His car rumbles on, bouncing along the road, unslowed.
Ninety-five, stayin’ alive,
dead to his life.

What is that on the side of the road ahead?
Does he see the small weed?
Will he stop to make a wish?
To break the stem
and breathe life back into the world?
But isn’t stopping on the freeway a crime?
He must decline, move on, no time.

The SUV he drives forms a shell.
Of air around it.
One that shatters the cloud,
that sends hundreds of little umbrellas
into a flurried blizzard of seedlings,
as he passes by.

The rumbling of his car fades in the distance.
The naked stem remains bent and broken
Its life has been sent into the world without him.
The blizzard, deflowered, subsides
Will he stop to make a wish?
Only if time abides.