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Poem of the Day

 Vision

Driving on a busy highway designed to relieve traffic on a busier one,

My glimpse lands on a mound of color in the turning lane ahead.

I see a human body.

That is not what it is, but what my mind perceives.

The envisioned body is wearing a bathing suit, and it is female.

It is deceased of course; half of it is legs with pale skin, half is a mix of red and blue and yellow.

My heart tightens; my eyes, which need to look elsewhere, are captured.

I go under a traffic light and the pile transforms into a towel twisted into some elongated shape, either thrown and dropped from a vehicle.

Why did I see a corpse in the way of oncoming cars?

Are my eyes failing me? My corrective lenses? My imagination? My expectations?

Is it too much true crime television?

Who knows?

And what if I had seen a human form that metamorphosed into a towel?

---

This is more about a concern of aging, not to show my poetic skill. I write one or two (or fewer) poems a year. Now you know why. 

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