Oil Light

& we’re pulling into a 24hr service
station 4 am on a market Sunday;
so yeah, not your usual hullabaloo

and not your usual morning-easy
harum-scarum bounty hunter afoot
seeking early-hour prey

this is meta-state dread bought
off Saturday’s 400 km inexplicably
trouble free anxiety at work, but

30 km in light of it rouses concern-
weary thoughts of an ailing fate 
surmised inherently unhealthy

or convincingly such anyway - in
imagining worst possibility & finding
the damn HANDBRAKE engaged

NOT an OIL LIGHT! What revelation!
You’d think cognoscente’s penny’d
drop - but hey, we’re all stress-wet

too out-of-phase blessed to see
auspicious humour spinning relieved
fables for tomorrow’s levity
© 10 October 2011, I. D. Carswell