Left Blinker

Behind the wheel, keeping my eyes on the road
somehow lowers shields around my mind.
As I drive the comfort of familiar grey,
you’re able to sneak inside,
creeping on tippy-toes without a sound.

Red light.
Left blinker;
Stop.

Wait.
Nothing to do now but watch and think.

I’m aware of you, feeling your probing,
hearing you remind me again.

Let’s review while we wait for the light to turn.
The other side ain’t even blinking yet.

What did I miss?
What did I say wrong?
What’s gotten away from me? 

Can I find it?

Can I fix it?  

The light changes.
I ease forward,
left again — always left.
Right doesn’t look
like a place where I belong.  

Tires turning,
mind churning,
circling the same block I’ve circled
thousands of times before,
I roll into tomorrow.

July 26 – August 24, 2025