Bumps in the Night

I hit a pothole last night, tires screeched,

a black mouth of asphalt swallowed my peace.

My heart jumped, clutching the wheel tight,

as if it could anchor the chaos released.

That sudden jolt, life’s bumps unprepared,

how easily we drive over cracks unseen.

Each mark left behind, some truth that we dared,

a broken road patch, barely holding between.

So here I sit, counting these scars,

how every twist and turn seems to carve,

memories into the layers of tar—

yet I keep moving, a restless star.