The Ends of Love

EITHER ALZHEIMER’S OR THE LIGHTNING BLAST

Whizzdizzyingly
cruising The Moment,
arrowing past all awareness:
highway,enginewhiine,steeringwheeltrafficWorld smudginnnnngg past
while we reprise Creation,
absorbing Eternity and Logos, Eden/Gethsemane, Genesis-Apocalypse
and the Night the Night,
the private bleeding into the general,
and Ouruniverse proxying for ego.
(or so it ever briefly seems)
The ends of love
are but two
:your V8 plunges from the surface
and, crucified like a butterfly in time,
helpless consciousness heightened,
you hover in slowmotion witness
to the juggernaut earth’s decay
just as your metal-again grille
begins to embrace solidity