where there's a will.

I sometimes hear voices reminding me to pay attention
touching my hair somewhere behind my right ear
more evidence that I might be unbalanced and fanatical

I stuff artificially lucky trinkets deep into my pockets
measuring with an imaginary ruler
hoping I don’t lose them somewhere through the holes

I rub dirty coins between my thumb and middle finger
tasting mint chapstick
and squint at the intrusive sunlight that burns
through my chipped windshield

I might be too far left of center
or too lost to find my way home
so I count the seconds between stoplights in Spanish
visualizing telephone poles balancing end to end
as they scrape the eastern nimbus clouds

© 4.1.11 heather brager