My little voice cracks.
“I think we need to..”
The meeting runs me over. 
Ideas cast away like
Dust on a gravel road

Calling to say I’m late.
Always inconvenient to you.
The hurried call saves me.
Memories of better times
Flow down rampant stream.

Stopping to pick things.
Asking where something is.
“We haven’t had that in years.”
I feel like the big juicy bug
Splattered on the windshield.

“They don’t carry it anymore.”
I tell you, arriving empty.
“You know not to there anyway!”
My mind races downhill.
Thoughts swirl like snowflakes

It a moment, my voice found.
The bug is in flight again.
The river flattens before me.
The dust settles on the earth.
“Stop yelling I can hear you!”

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