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Commute Home

It’s like driving on the water–

Jesus Christ, eat your heart out,

’cause I’m doing it better.


And it’s bliss, watching the

birds dive and sail through the wind

so gracefully. You’d never know

how silly they look during take-off

and landing, they’re so beautiful.


It’s empty and wide, and it lets my

mind get empty and wide, too.

And I think about the past,

about people who hurt me,

and those who made me happy.


I think about old wounds–foolish

wounds–and new ones, too.

I think about groceries and bills,

about music and laughter.


And then it dawns upon me again

that I have this commute,

and I have this life….


And. I’m. 24. Years. Old.

          Jesus Christ.

How’d that even happen?

Taken from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife site.



Um, open form, I guess.

Categories: Poetry
  1. wade
    October 25, 2011 at 3:04 pm

    I now love that bridge…

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