Presence

Sometimes
I like to turn the radio off
Let the silence fall upon the car
Let the experience of driving
Transcend the noise
Otherwise in the background

I hear pavement’s texture
Know the coarse and the smooth
From the form of a wave in my ear
I feel it
Transferred from tires
To frame
To chassis
To the wheel beneath my hands
The pedal and floor beneath my feet
The seat enveloping my body

I hear the rumble
Of suspension
Sucking up the bumps in the road
There’s the air
Parting around the shell
The howl of friction, of drag

I am as a passenger
In a bullet made
Of glass and steel and plastic
Rifling down the centre lane

Driving
A sense of flight
I change lanes
Feel the front wheels grip asphalt
Through the palms on the wheel
Imagining dipping wings

I leave the highway
The sharp half corkscrew of an offramp
Feel the centrifuge at work
As my body shifts in the seat

A jog to the left
A dip
Sail through the changing light
Then up the hill to the next

Driving
A sense of dance
The flow of arc and line
A choreographed movement

Driving
A sense of connection
To the landscape
Enveloping me like a tunnel
Like a blanket

A comfort in being
A warmth of recognition

I sing the world
Into experience
So simply
With careful attention
To my presence
In a small
Four-wheeled box
Moving through
Space and time