Adjustments

Doctor heal thyself

A benediction and a prayer.

You are sick

I see it

This is the dark side of an endless summer

You shake

But I am packing. My case

Anyway.

“Don’t go.” You say

Holding up the keys.

We both know I will

Anyway.

Sometimes when I was a child I would wish to be someone else

And when I was older I would.

But now those things are

No more.

Now I call it envy. And sorrow.

To chase another self.

Instead, the reflection of the traffic meter

“Your speed is”

Causes instant adjustment.

And who really understands speed

Trajectory...

Or its consequences.

There are certain rules of living

In a city, and one of them is

“Don’t clutter

Public spaces."

I don’t clutter

Public spaces

Of your mind.

I have my own way to go,

Anyway.