And None Too Late

Hold out a minute longer.
The sunset’s not over yet.
Drive home now, you’ll be blinded

And at risk of driving off
The road as you crest that hill.
It’s a minor thing, timing,

But as all jocks and warriors,
Not to say politicians,
Know, it can mean everything.

The pipsqueak correlatives
Of the way this road rises,
And sunset this time of year,

And you driving home without
Thinking enough about time,
The polysyndetonnage

Of many, many minor
Radiations interlinked
Together—they could kill you.

Stay here and watch the twilight
And feel the katabatic
Canyon wind caress your face.