Driving, and: Dust Devil, and: Off Balance, and: Lost in Thought on an Extension Ladder

Driving

You were behind the wheelof the used family car      at night with no license,      no key. It turned onall by itself. You could seethrough the dusty windshield,      not the garage wall,      but the road aheadrunning under. It was yours.It wasn't yours. You knew      where both your feet should go      and when to lift them and why,what never never to changetill exactly the right time      as you picked up speed,      but not where you were goingexcept when you had to shutthe driver's door behind you,      tiptoe up the stairs      and climb back into bed.

Dust Devil

Through stubble the color of dust, the dust devil    spins down the sloping furrows, the only cloud      at this day's end gone furious under the sky        and on earth in a coil toward me, snarled          tight at the churning base, one streamer            flung up and around and lost and left              with a hunch and hump sideslipping                to tanglefoot past me full of itself                  and tall as a house with nothing                    and no one home long enough                      to matter in its hurry to be                        done with it, to outrace                          what it lifts, swivels,                            and tosses to earth                              to settle for less                                and less, now                                  even less.

Off Balance

Something in your head is telling youyou're out from under      the place where what's left in there      thought it wasand thought it was going, somewhereyou hadn't planned on      exactly, and at that moment      you realize you must change the whole idea of directionif you want to be anywhere      sooner, not later, and must turn      and not swivel too fartoward this surprising goal      you hadn't had in mind      and hadn't considered choosing,and must keep at least one footfrom losing a track or a trace      of where the other is      without thinking about itin advance. Then in the steadilyunsteady abrupt resumption      of more or less forward progress,      all that's required of youbesides your single-mindedversion of locomotion      is a serene look,      not at your toes or heels(though one of them may feelas light as if it had wings      and the other seems abstract),      but at what lies aheadwhere the way is paved for youwith something like good intentions,      something stony, floor-like,      earthy or concrete,and now undeniably,unavoidably underfoot.

Lost in Thought on an Extension Ladder

It isn't a good place to forget whyyou wanted to climb this high in the first place,making yourself scarce on solid ground.Was it new lights or clearing what isn't goingdown a downspout into the old cycle?

You can feel (as firm as any step on a stair)the rungs under your arches. You're not afraidthey're suddenly going to break or disappearand leave you to the mercy of your gripon the side rails, sending you back where you came from.You believe the ladder can hold its own. You believeeach rung knows where it is, that none of themis a point of no return, that each is at leastas immediately dependable as the last.

But you're backing down now with no loss of staturein your own shaky opinion. You're playing it safe.You never wanted to be one of Jacob's angels.You'll settle for less by going back to the garden.