Regret: the silent killer, if you let it take the wheel.

“Road Trip”

Rusty dusty voice
Crackling through
The radio waves
Frequency attuned to
Warbling wayward winds
Shaking melodies
Rattling the passenger
To and fro

Back and forth
Weaving over the line
Cigarette dangling
Desiccated wrist
Hangman’s grip

Rebellious regret
Long since broke free
From this old man’s
Precious pipedream

Unrestricted by
The open road

Destination unknown

© Jane Bled

Sometime in 2016