Magic Moves Through Me

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The Star in the sky and its sitar string song
Shimmers and sings to me all the day long

The morning sees bent notes encircle my mind
By mid-day the rhythm has stretched down my spine

Come midnight the music meets me face to face
Pulls me in closer, then wraps ’round my waist

my hand on it’s knee

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I stare hard with wonder  
Smiling back
At the long, blue road before me 

How it’s casual, easy grade belies 
Hard-won, Historic Route status Potholes, and unforeseen detours 

And I think to myself
Do I tip-toe whimsically
Drive with all deliberate speed
Or close my eyes and fly on eagle wings

Where will this road take me
Who does it think it is
And what color snacks should I pack for the journey

Not A Bad Dream

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I came back after a short time
-too short a time-
and something was different.
Ouch.
A person
-or presumably so-
with a steel brush
had carved his initials
in the top middle
of the passenger door
of my ’68 Challenger.
That’s not good.
Ouch.