Before I was Born

I was the straight line
down the center of the road pushing always toward the future.
I was in the beginning.

Fast or slow, dirt or paved, I owned the roads.
I followed the veins of the world to where they ended in fingers and toes.
I traced them back to the clogged city hearts.

I lived in motion when standing still,
Not in a car, not in real life, but walking, dreaming, with the wind on my face
And a sign on every tree that said home.

Now

I must adore this world I live in
Blindly like a too-devoted lover,
Not seeing the man beneath the bearskin,
Not smelling the beast inside the master--

Oh, to be dead and gone away
Or all buried in this human clay!