I saw myself climbing out through the driver seat window.
It was the strangest thing to see in your peripheral view.
I was driving, so I pulled over to the side of the road.
I sat there for a moment, expecting what of the thin air?
It could have been an ordinary morning but now it's a morning
emblazoned deep into the grey matter of the brain itself.
If only I could find the exact spot where it lies I would dig in
with a scalpel or anything sharp and sterile for that matter
and cut it out while whistling a pleasant tune, light and airy.
What is it that we feel we are owed when our jaws clench
and the eyes twitch and the muscles in the neck jerk?
The finger tips and palms rubbing up against one another
with a rhythm that could only be described as maniacal
because there is something so unsettling and unintentional in it.
Not praying, nor praising nor begging then what says it?