Daubs of purple, blurred within the green.
Eyes race to refocus on the black-yellow butterfly
Flitting among the blooms. Of this, or these, is an
Impressionistic life made and my soul is satisfied
In the late afternoon of my life; alone, not lonely.
Reversed image in the rearview mirror of my memory,
Butterfly garnering more anonymous sex in a single day
Than I’ve encountered in a lifetime of anonymous afternoons.
Shadows by the roadside in a too early dawn;
Disruptions to my driving,
Disabilities of my dreams.
Strangers capturing my attention,
Distractions easing me from my own
Inability to deal with reality, today’s reality.
Quick image of sacrifice:
Seeing a pair of kamikaze birds
Taking looping, dive-bombing turns,
Protecting a nest in the top of a palm tree,
From molestation. By intimidation or deceit,
Attempting to frighten or lure away their foe.
My thoughts dwell on the enemy:
Bird of prey? Shadow? Serpent? Theirs? Mine?
I’m ten more miles down the road.