Things always end badly -
a firey car crash,
a stuttering cardio monitor,
lethal invective.
Premonition
is uselessly deficient in detail
to ward off
natural unintentional disaster or
to suggest remedy in
unnatural intentional intervention.
No matter,
the trick is to extend the middle,
explore the exposition exponentially.
Take the back roads.
Pull off at every scenic overlook
to hold hands,
take a nap,
eat a sandwich.
This would be a good time
to walk the dog
you liberated from the shelter
for just this purpose.
The one with eczema, halitosis,
and, crucially, a thimble-sized bladder.
You don’t mind,
it delays the destination.
The storm hurls its tantrum
against the jagged coast,
the lighthouse winks out.
But you are beyond the jet stream
somewhere
becalmed,
drifting uncharted waters
in a ramshackle
pea-green boat.
