Writer’s DUI
I grip the wheel stung
by consonants and vowels.
Nouns smudge the windshield.
As windows swarm with phrases
Verbs whine, bite and beg me
to pick up a pen at 65 mph.
“Write me. Me. Me. Me.
Ideas flash and honk my horn.
They force swerves and street slaloms
as I sing to stay on the road.
When mind fireflies go incandescent,
I beg for red lights or stop signs.
Oh, let traffic slow.
On manic freeways
No stopping places
when the buzz heightens.
If I’m cuffed and get a DUI for writing,
will the kind officer trade the ticket
for my signature on a poem?
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