Stock image of a string pulled tight and fraying.

Drifting The Pulled Path

I am driving
It is a one-way road
There is no end in sight.
We are all going the same direction,
Thousands of different cars,
All seamlessly working the same.
One direction.
No turns.

I feel myself beginning to drift,
I get pulled back into the lines.
It is as if all the cars are one,
Connected by a single string.
Somewhere, there is one car leading,
Pulling the one behind it,
Pulling the one behind it,
Pulling the one behind it,
And so on.

I feel myself being pulled.
The string is tight.
I feel the tension.
I let go of the wheel,
I drift on.
Being pulled by the string.

But then,
I suddenly feel slack building.
I am going too fast.
I feel paralyzed.
I cannot lift my hands,
My arms.
My body is stiff.

I begin to drift once again,
Only this time,
I am outside the lines.
I am not being pulled back.
The string then snaps.
My car veers off the road.
I crash.

I broke the only string.
The cars behind me keep driving,
They’re on their own.
Only they start veering,
Some crashing.
They do not know how to drive,
Not without the string,
Not on their own.
They did not know,
They did not know.
There is confusion,

My eyes open.
It was only a dream.
The string is still intact.
My hands are still on the wheel.
I am still being pulled.
They still do not know.


-Blaine Ford

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