Twenty

I am highway tar:

sticky and tough,

crashed on and holy.

My youth keeps me invincible,

like a forest fire without

wind or rain or man to

stomp it out.

I am in the swing of things;

up ‘til dawn and

pounding sidewalk cracks

for everyone up early enough

to hear me live.

Each minute makes me older,

and my ribs crack under the

cosmic dusts that settle on my shoulders.

I slowly sink into the ground,

wiggling my toes into crumbling concrete.

These roads are mine;

I am speeding against

daylight and the sadness

I sentenced to death on that

summer night I ran all the way to the lake.

Here I am:

baptized,

blessed,

and blushing.