too fast driving north

up the coast from the city

toward howth, and on up

toward skerries. I have sometimes

a cut from lead foot, especially

on amber and approaching

long roads – I accelerate.

the pace here is perfect –

all coast to one side. at high

tide all seaside, at low tide

a mess: dirt sand, broken trolleys

with crabs picking decomposing

birds. but the point –

it’s straight forward and I go

that direction, as it curves

like a claw behind suburbs,

and fast. I move like the blade

of a saw against wood. I move

past the trees and their shadows.

car windows open, the radio pawing

at the soft of the night with a hesitant,

kitten-shy, curious hand.