with the warm cancerous sun on my arm
its oxymoron revealing itself in shades;
in pieces, in an unfolding motion.
undulating in parallel to my life and existence.
my life: the great simile, and the as if.
constant comparison, seldom original.
over and over,
revisiting lessons, repeating sins.
the route never altering once it begins.
like wheels on the road;
like driving...
my chapters are state lines;
my milestones, road signs.
i'll pause in a sleeping transition, and believe you this:
i will not remember the hardships when i've arrived.
and ever, ever i'm moving,
and driving...
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