The vehicles come wheeling down
The straight road. Sometimes you’ve got
To polish your buttons, recognize a field,
Undo a centuries-old knot.
And if your truck wears out, the clutch gives way,
Climb into another truck.
You become a better driver, you swear
Less, so why be thunderstruck?
And if, at night, you see a tree
Turn into a giant bat,
Or if the sinks and sizzles
In the waves, what’s wrong with that?
And if you drive a little raggedy
Or push those curves on 44,
You’re still the same old soul we knew
Before you moved to Baltimore.
Yaacov David Shulman