Really, they aren’t much, this road or this truck;
enough to grind gears, push it through,
turn and wave to no one
as it goes on its way.

But as it rolls away you have to ask
what of its load, what of its boxes
upon boxes of irredeemable items
left unpacked and going away?

Then you stop and let them go
unmolested, unharmed by your
avarice. You think you might get
your hands on whatever comes next

up that treacherous street, but perhaps
you’ll let that go by too, leaving it
for some next couple of pilferers to take
after coveting them, salivating, clutching them

to their chests. You have better things
to do, somehow, although you’ve never
thought of them before. You have already
been a thief. Now it’s time to change,

become something else. You’ll convert yourself
into a philosopher, maybe a priest; perhaps
you’ll become a doctor, or a drunk. After all,
it’s your world. Shoulder it, shrug, and move on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T