Waiting for the Cyclone

Been on the sides

Of a thousand roads

Standing there

In the snow and rain

The bitter wind cutting

 

Through my coat

The way pain

Pierces my soul

Leaving me standing

 

In the ice

In the oil and the grit.

 

I didn’t mean to jump

That grim afternoon

Waiting 

At the edge of that snowy

Grave

In my Blues

Eyes screwed shut

Waiting for

The firing detail.

 

But I did.

I flinched

I always flinched.

 

I wanted to believe

If I focused my mind

On any one of

A thousand roads

Waiting for that cyclone

Of ice and wind

To push me backward

As the trucks thundered past

The crack of seventeen rifles

Would have no effect.

 

But they did.

 

They always do

Even in a universe

Of countless cyclones

And millions of trucks

On endless roads.