reincarnation

 I will tread marigolds, loosely take corners,
Keep the moon in my mirror.
The American Highway
Will fold like a sleeping horse
Beneath my sun-stained body.
My radio will stutter
Tawny voices under stars, and
Lasso rosetta sentinels.
 
Put me down slowly,
Send me out for scrap metal.
One day I’ll be a car
Driving through Arches National Park.