Written by: Johnathon Souders

I'm singular.
I'm night-driving.
With vibrant hum
of standard speed.
I'm glowing of dashboard.
Utterances of am talk
alien abductees and remote viewing.
Barely diverts my musing.

I night-drive 
A rite of wanting
Control, of the wheel.
Arm out window
night air cooling me.
Headlight on blacktop.
A yellow metronome.

This nights topic , I'm.
A question proposed,
by a small man in robes.
I started the list:

I'm a modern Tom Sawyer
an ebb-and-flow.
I'm this psycho-manic jester.
Dharma junkie, with subjects.
I'm Charlie Brown on acid
but who love the dog.
I'm a skin head hippie.
A guy with no wrist watch.
I'm a independent film critic
speaks religiously of Fight Club.
I'm these and other clever observation.

I stopped at a neon diner for tools of thought:
Coffee, pen, paper, and consumers of isolation.
Filling a page of I'm
looking for a singular
a true answer.
Just finding personas
and learned traits.

It came to me this I'm.
While leaving the tip.
In my wallet a picture of my children
looking full of me.