Daylight and Large Weapons

Bombing through the Highland Park bridge at speeds
inappropriate for braking while rain dimples the river
darkening below and allowing the belch of exhaust
to sing a death for me

Brake.

Windshield wipers clap quietly while music wrestles
with the burble and shake.  Old truck bluer blues than
river water.  Garbled tail lights wink, bumper smooches
greetings and forgotten names

Go.

Sunset obscured by clouds racing northeast  The east,
the east, the east!  Marry Poppin's magic bag is about
the size of a full truck bed, at least.  Maybe more
maybe less.  They do both fly

Brake.

Turning slowly, turning faster, lazy lazy lazy.  A hop,
skip, and a few turns away.  Home.  Work.  Home.  Work.
Off to see the hillfolk to organize their lives.  Home to
see the kinfolk to reprioritize.

Mary Poppins

drove a truck;

her umbrella flight

was lies.