Grounded

Beaten to submission

The tires slip and in the second control is found and lost

Slammed against the barricade

A moment of silence before the crunch, crush

That floating slowly sideways

Inevitable eventuality,

Brutally pressing into the barricade

Bent, broken and saved.

Hobble away

To a safer place.

Walk around

Access

The damages superficial

Bend down

Access 

The cold ground

For signs of leaks

Shine a light on

Looking for anything

Out of place.

Listening in the desolation 

For sounds of distress

Trying to differentiate

The same old growl from

The chance of something new.

Then it comes down to feeling,

And the gut drops

The shuddering that lets you know,

You can't go on.

Not safely.

Carbulance called.

Waiting patient as the snow builds, the defrost roars

The glow of the radio,

The wind howls without

The mind howls within

Is sedated on the chew toy 

Of modern technology

Never alone with a phone

Never far from home.

Never bored, that is the 

Worst thing we could be,

Pocketing a myriad of devices in one handheld vice.

Squeezing the lithium down the veins, through the heart, mind, cleansed again and in need of a recharge.

Carbulance arrives

Traveling saints with braided metal yarns,

Driving where driven to,

Dealing with every variation

Of human condition,

From the buxom young woman

To the demented old man. 

Answering the call of the unfortunate traveller,

On a morning when they can barely keep traction.

The lines in the road are concealed, everyone driving on instinct and feeling, some failing and I cannot judge,

As I watch the beast

Stare greedily at me through the rear window.

We're it a horse

A bullet for its lunch.

Back at the veterinarian 

The doctor looks over my poor pony bucket,

A broken leg twisted metal

Bones aren't cheap

And labor ain't free

But I'll bandaid her

For lack of options

And spend the week

Working to pay off the mistake

Of waking up early

On a Monday morning,

When I should have crawled back in bed for six more weeks.