May Morning

Life is meant to be lived with the windows

down on a cool May morning.

Best above forty miles per hour.

That's when the breeze flutters the

hair on the back of the neck

and the temptation is to stick

your head out the window to

feel the full effect of delicious,

crisp air.

Pity the poor fella in the next lane.

Windows up tight.

Hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel.

He looks like he's driving to his

own funeral.  Grim.

I would wave if he looked my way,

that not likely.

Have a nice day.

If I had a convertible, I'd put the top down,

turn the volume up on Rocket Man,

push the pedal down and sing

along with Elton.

No convertible, though, so it's

windows down, all four, a thumb drum

on the steering wheel to the beat

of that soaring piano.

"I'm not the man they think I am,

Oh, no...I'm a Rocket Man."

Yes, madam, I'm having a good time.

This is the morning of all mornings.

Haven't you noticed?