Shelby

Two new tires

Every little rock gets stuck

Between the ruts

And we cry because they hurt.

The smallest vexations

Vary our routine.

Change of plans

 

With time we change

Wear down the grooves

Larger rocks stuck

Just as tight

As the ones before.

Bigger vexations, and

We swerve to avoid

The fork in the road.

 

Timeless now

No longer ridged

No rocks stuck

Only nails and rods.

Pulling them out

Leaves a hole

No one bothers to fill.

Air rushes out

Until we're flat.

 

Two old tires

Cut and shaped

Into horses

Or left whole

Strung up to a tree.

Whoever you are

Wherever you may be

Stop and swing

Take a moment

To remember me.