The one where I don't slam on the brakes
where I don't hear you scream and cry out
for me to stop.
This time, the clouds do not pull back
and the sun does not glisten - not even for a moment -
on the edge of that thin filament. You don't see it
or maybe I just won't listen
but I am nowhere near the end
of my freewheeling plunge
down the long steep slope to the coast.
The wind does not catch my hair
nor the sun the crests of the waves below.
Years have not passed
and I am not looking back
in awe and wonder.
I'm out of time, suspended between here and now -
that fishing line still stretched tight
neck-height at the bottom of the hill.
where I don't hear you scream and cry out
for me to stop.
This time, the clouds do not pull back
and the sun does not glisten - not even for a moment -
on the edge of that thin filament. You don't see it
or maybe I just won't listen
but I am nowhere near the end
of my freewheeling plunge
down the long steep slope to the coast.
The wind does not catch my hair
nor the sun the crests of the waves below.
Years have not passed
and I am not looking back
in awe and wonder.
I'm out of time, suspended between here and now -
that fishing line still stretched tight
neck-height at the bottom of the hill.