Sure, a few of the vowels are missing,
but I'm no dummy,
though rushing toward the next
inconsequential thing I have to do,
it takes a quarter mile or so to see
the out-of-state plate on this grey Ford Focus
that's going a little slow for my liking,
not clicking until the red light, when it hits me:
DNT PNIC
like a message sent from somewhere
I've struggled lately
to find hope in,
but I've struggled lately to find hope in most things,
these last weeks again a spiraling
mess of counting breaths,
stomach full of worry
over nothing I can name,
and only minutes before this very moment,
hollered into my windshield
how long am I going to feel like this?
But glass is just polished sand,
and God's been tight-lipped lately,
so instead, I'll raise my Amens to you, generic dude
in your silver sedan, spreading the good word
of focus and calm at thirty miles per hour
across southeastern Pennsylvania,
slowing me down
right when I need to.
