Road Trip Zazen

An early morning road trip ahead:
long distance, heavy traffic,
not quite enough sleep.

Coffee in my future —
soon enough
in my hand.

Can I make the music loud enough
to carry me all the way 
so that I don’t have to do all the driving?

I’m going to find out,
so will everyone else.
If you hear me coming look up

as I may be flying, not driving.  I’ll be
soaring over my neighbors on the interstate,
borne aloft on Patti Smith, screaming south on Slayer.

I don’t find enlightenment
in sitting or contemplation.  Instead
it comes in fast, crescendos to a peak

north of Hartford on 84,
and usually stays with me
after I’ve returned home

to sit briefly in the driveway,
waiting for that perfect moment
to turn the music off.