In The Passing Lane
       

The you inside of me today seems tangible.
A clapboard cottage beside a frozen pond: that is you.
My drive up the road: that is you too.
Like reading a sign, I see in the distance called past
you passing me the concept of constantly holding
friends in my mind, which reaffirms that all time
happens at once, as firmly as these pines line
the side of the road. In this moment, as a line of slowmoving
cars with headlights on in daylight
moves on the other side of the median strip,
I recollect last week, in the face of a youth
bound for Alaska, you, red-headed parrot of travel
set against gimmicks that make us hate the cold.
This is told to you in this and every other moment.

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Copyright © 2016 Pauline Uchmanowicz All rights reserved
from Starfish
Twelve Winters Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission