I write cursive on legal pads.

To My Future Self, III

Added on by D.S. Hooker.
Remember the time we (as in “I”)
drove past a ran-over dog on the highway?
How it reminded us (as in “me”)
that we’re all on a blind journey,
every decision we make being a matter of guesswork?

How beat up we (as in “you”)
would be towards the end,
to the point where home
was just another strange place
and how afraid we (as in “we”)
were of such a notion?