Peptic Verse (a rag man)

As I drive up the motorway to work this weekend while
my friends - who I dearly love and yet rarely meet - are
scattered amongst the bedsheets like random
dream wisps, I think of the road I have travelled
in this foreign land miles away from the warmth of home

At 24, I came here chomping at the bit,
eager to prove my worth,
let the whole world know:

I HAVE ARRIVED

(thank you all for waiting)

Aound me was a glowing sphere of youth and opportunity
anchored on ME by invisible cables, drawing upon
my sheer brilliance at it's centre for it's existence

I never veered from the fast lane
I dipped my lights for no one

At 26, I was sure of what I knew and I was sure
of what they knew, I was sure that what I knew
was more than what they knew and I was sure
that they knew they needed to know what I knew

My right foot stayed firmly on the pedal
I stopped not for amber

At 28, I saw chinks in my armour,
pointed out by others and at times by myself,
during the endless nights of insecurity when
I probed and prodded for weaknesses

The cars around me sped past while
my gaze fell frequently upon the fuel gauge

At 30 denial helped, although I had to change (reluctantly)
my drop down menu selections for the first time

My faithful ride looked weatherworn
(tiredness is infectious)

And yet maybe
just maybe...

all it needs is a new angle

a fresh

perspective

(peptic verse for some)