I-5

​Long distance
Slippery instance
Love potion
Locomotion

Oily fields,
Waving prairies.
Power yields
And then grows scary.

I’m inclined
To act refined.
But I know,
Even so,

Dynamics pulse.
Wills convulse.
Quiet tension
Apprehension.

I dain concede
To make things easy.
But tends to leave
My stomach queasy.

There’s no wrong
Or even right,
When spoiling for
A roiling fight.

Battles have
Their time and place.
While though this seems
To be the case,

Unless I spin an angry fire,
Fruitless pain I don’t desire.
There it is and that’s the way.
I'll be gone by break of day.


11/21/21