Burning Rubber By Dré Covas

Burning Rubber By Dré Covas

By Dré Covas

I write to you about righting.

Sometimes you can see something is wrong. Sometimes you can see the solution. Sometimes the path between the two is clear, a simple route. Other times there are twists and turns, blind spots and dark patches of slippery pavement.


I find myself at a fork, two paths before me. I’ve been at this crossroad for some time, waiting for direction.


I’ve been waiting for a signpost to pop out in front of me or for some fellow traveler to come and show the way.


I’ve been patiently sitting here, faithful that my destination is near and that the route will soon be clear. I’ve been stalling, telling myself it is better to wait for a green light that to just speed off blindly.


It occurs to me that it is time to move forward, to take a leap of faith. That perhaps the signal I’m awaiting comes from inside this vehicle. A back-seat driver, whispering just go already.


Pedal to the metal, white-knuckled grip at ten and two, I leave this intersection, not knowing where I am headed but relieved to feel a flow beneath my wheels.

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