I clomp through my life by rote
Along trails wedged into soil
So deeply as to seem permanent
According to a map drafted by some expert
As if guided remotely by a GPS
Attached to my pia mater
And every time I try to sidestep the worn track
Instead of hearing “Recalculating”
I hear “Who do you think you are?”
As if gathering a little dirt that’s my own
Might pull the earth off its path
And so I cannot remember the last time
I indulged in such misbehavior



  1. I love the progression and the word choice, and how all the different images go neatly and overlap one another,almost like you are turning pages of a photo album. Lovely write and I enjoyed reading!

    1. Thanks, Oloriel, I wanted to keep to a dirt road geography, totally entrenched and hard to abandon. This is what midlife is all about — reflecting on these entrenched ways. Yawn.

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