April 1994
Racing to tai chi
zoned out, centered
rolling on down that country road.
Suddenly! on the outskirts
of the petticoats of town,
cops everywhere.
Directly under
the thirty-five miles per hour warning
partially obscured
by a budding cherry tree
computer board flashes
my automotive velocity.
“Your speed is,” the sign says,
“Oh, my God…”
Cops can’t believe their radar eyes.
I look at that glowing digital readout.
I laugh. Ha! A younger man,
damn machine wouldn’t have
enough numbers.
Zoned out already. Centered,
rolling on down the highway
into Congested Area
Suddenly! Racing to tai chi,
zoned out, centered
rolling on down that country road.
“Your speed is” the sign says,
“thirty miles per hour.”
Ha! I flip the cops everywhere
the bird, waving my hand
like a parade princess.
Suddenly!
PULLED OVER…
racing to tai chi.