Windingly I Will Arrive

Windingly I Will Arrive

I apologize for coming so late,
the traffic was schismatic, and, as has
always
been my custom,
I did what I was told right up until now.
I promise, though,
I will be there by the day after tomorrow;
I swear I will make up for the time I spent away.

The blame does not lie outside me,
the choices were all mine. And everyone who
knows me
can stipulate that I never meant harm to anyone.

But looking in the mirror, seeing the headlights on my tail,
the tears of my ambitions were wiped from the windshields,
and fell on the highway behind us all.

The thunder clashed with my intentions,
the storm wrecked every itinerary on the way.
My father used to say that shortcuts were only
the longer road to get somewhere fast. I never found
one.

But, windingly I will arrive, pennies in my pockets,
pebbles in my shoes, gravel in the tire treads, and,
slightly embarrassed and more amused that
I could have walked across the street 40 years ago
to see you the way
I see you
today.