Turning into the light, the scrambled vista becomes serene:
Posted bypasses lead further away from the direction home
(There is a certain tone that must be captured.)
Simply riding the brake doesn't bring the comfort
once felt. Bracing against the sidewalls on the turns
(How to let go completely of this husk of memories;)
recalls an exhilaration of adolescence mis-remembered,
Like the time of this and one time that and everything
(a consumption of energy with no visible outlet,)
roils up and across the flat desert a tumbled trap
comes to rest, feinting decay and rust; ready to be sprung.
(a vast untapped pool just under the surface.)
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