Miles per Life

Miles Per Life

Every day, I drive from my street

onto the highway,

rush to 55 mph

slow to 45

then 35

through town.

From home, to home

always an inching back

or zipping forward

from sign to sign.

Today, I turn the age

of the youngest speed.

The years will accelerate

in rising order

regardless of which

way I’m heading.

But in the realm

where I prefer to move,

I’ve lived each limit already,

can look back at my linear self

driving linear roads and wonder

why I focus so on numbers

why I sigh at yellow lights

and cross-walkers.

I always make it home.

Home—more than the number

it wears to be found.

Age—more than the speed I live it.

Both—just figures

to help me know

how close I am.