Thread by @RCdeWinter

#poetry

cruise control

I stare out my window at the world
trying to make sense of what I see,
but everything illuminates in staccato flashes
and then, like lightning,
is gone.

I cannot grasp what passes for reality;
these brilliant bursts have nothing
to hold on to, no permanence.
Words and pictures, people and sounds
leave only blurred impressions
on the copper plate of the mind;
nothing sharp and clear develops
as a memory to be saved.

And when I dare the sidewalks
I cannot stroll at a good, slow pace,
cannot stop to admire an old doorknob,
a window crammed with curios,
without being jostled by impatient elbows,
almost trampled by flying feet,
all rushing – where? –

in a mad scramble as if speed
will make up for emptiness.

I am not made for this steeplechase.
I crave immersion,
the steeping of the self in the experience.
Book me on that slow boat to China;
give me molasses in January.

I do not want to live on fast food,
gulping byte-sized chunks of half-truth
in fantasy sauce while rushing
with ten thousand others to the next newest thing.

I must find a place,
complete with cloth napkins
and an orchestra,
where I can sit
and savor a full-course meal.

© 2015 RC deWinter
Published in The Nelligan Review
@NelliganThe Vol 1 Issue 2
December 30 2022