Distances

Standing on a road
A dirt road
Holding a set of keys in your hand
Turning them up - down - around a finger
Listening to the sounds

For some reason it feels "cool" to do it

It's cool out
The vegetation lowers itself
To graze the gravel
And dances around it like
A bunch of green feathers

On some guy's head in a crazy dance

Below that a curvature
Turns the road out of sight
It goes down, left, right
Up a bit rollercoastering
Down again

Until it hits a sunwarmed blacktop

Then spirals down, less relaxed
Than the stream rushing alongside it
To where its business enters something larger
But the business of the road, something smaller
A box, a hedge, a tool, a meal

Each reflecting things differently

It is 12 and a half miles to town
And 7 feet from the edge of the dirt road
To an old rock which has moss on one side
And two flowers near the other
But a horizontal, floating body
Doesn't even require a steering wheel

In the first case. Can't cover the second
Distance in the time the sun took to form
And then burn down to ashes.