Following Tail Lights

FOLLOWING TAIL LIGHTS


Notoriously indecisive, this road 

of ours, tunneled in by pine—a slow, 

vertiginous ascent. And per cliché


the tunnel beckons with a light, 

but what the cliché fails to clarify

is how it flutters back in synchronicity


with our approach, blinking out

then back in sight as we are wound

round juts and crags, if ever-towards.

 

Our vehicle is one inclined to hold

the flicker much the way you might 

a firefly—light concluded in tight fists— 


but once again it briefly disappears

around another bend in the road, 

and we will follow it despite


this famine for finality. Really, what  

else is there to do?—the air is better 

up here, and besides, at this over-


pass we may recall how small 

our worlds are, how high this faithful,

inconclusive following has led us


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