I see the old man

grey hair, eyes, beard

at the t junction

beating his fists on the horn

I don’t know who he’s mad at

but it surely can’t be me

I understand his anger

if not the depth

of his pain

while I’m driving in sunshine

he thinks it nothing but rain

& I know this

not from a book

because I’ve been

where he’s coming from

its not a good look

fighting the traffic as habit

holding the world to task

the rage will kill you

faster than any killer hook

you feel it in your belly

growing into your chest

& let it go, let it go

is more than a mantra


it’s a second chance

at a good life

if you can only

just take that breath

not to suck it up

just to breathe

& let go




is just



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