There is a possibility I will never drive again. Third time around, there is a possibility. It*s not a fluke of some sort. I figure I*m getting practice in letting go. Not easy, to be sure, but still... practice. For at least six more months.
Six more months
At least
To figure how I will get
From here
To there
And back again.
Six more months
To learn the cracks
In the sidewalk,
The shortcut through the bank parking lot
To the drugstore.
Six more months
To learn the company
Of the people
Who live in assisted housing
Next to the train station.
Six more months
To live life smaller,
Realize once again
The things I missed
When I lived larger.
Six more months
At least
To learn the ins and outs,
The loops and whorls of my brain
As individual as a fingerprint.
At least six months.
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