stash a sin here and there,
run so fast, you can’t see tomorrow,
or yesterday,
or here,
or there.
when–and where–are you?
do you envision
the consequences?
or just jump in?
a guess, a hunch, a feeling:
it’s all the same in the end,
isn’t it?
but what if it’s not?
what if regret only comes
when you listen to the whisper
in your head,
be it conscience, God, whatever,
and you ignore it?
what if you move so swiftly
you can’t hear the wind
blowing in the trees
as you pass through
the outer rings of the hurricane?
what if you drive your little hot rod,
a corvette on a highway,
or a speed boat in the ocean,
right for the center?
will there be a calm to the storm,
if you arrive in time?
Stumbling along the sidewalk 