Until the wheels fall off,
I could drive it
with rumbling, then sputtering engine
until the wheels fall off.

I hit a brick wall,
once or twice or a hundred times.

Was I arrogant?
I was assuredly foolish,
but I didn't think I was conceited.
I didn't think.

And so,
here we are.
If I didn't call or text my son
I'm pretty certain
I would never hear from him again,
and of my daughter I realized that
a long time ago.

And I remember being told
how I was a good father,
and I remember being told
how I was a good man,
and I remember being told
I was an inspiration,
and wise,
and compassionate,
and kind.

These days
I walk around pretty certain
that God is pissed at me,
and I don't think that in an ironic,
witty,
or clever way.
I have not idea how much repentance is enough.

I keep driving on a flat,
I keep driving
with no speedometer or way to tell
if the engine is too hot.
At 20, that probably wasn't that bad,
but now in my early 40s I wonder how much longer
it can go on,
driving until the wheels fall off.