Whizzdizzyingly
cruising The Moment
arrowing past all awareness
highway,enginewhiiine,steeringwheeltrafficWorld smudginnnnngg
past
and we: rehearsing Creation
absorbing Eternity and Logos, Eden/Gethsemane and the Night the Night
the private bleeding into the general and our Universe proxying for ego.

(Or so it briefly seems.)

The ends of love
are but two

: your V8 plunges from the surface
and, crucified like a butterfly in time,
helpless consciousness heightened,
you hover in slowmotion witness
to the juggernaut earth's decay

and your metal-again grille
begins to embrace solidity.

or: doomed foresight eludes
as you rearend that lightless
semi