One Day on the Freeway
Like a dream to the alarm clock.
Like a nitrous revelation.
Like when you pass a cop
by the side of the road
and unslouch yourself without thinking.
A little change in perspective
when you weren’t paying attention.
You think, God, I could have died
back there and not noticed,
entered some parallel universe
more like this one than heaven.
But the exits are the same
and the wife’s car is in the driveway
when you pull in, the kids are waving
at the window. You get out
without looking in the wing mirror,
wipe your forehead
with the back of your hand.