I call out sick and drive my jeep East
 windows down and stereo off
I get lost on this familiar route and hum along to the rhythm of the tires
“bum, bum” in the right lane of a freshly paved route 6
until I reach the Hudson River overlook

I park my car beneath a massive oak tree and wonder how it survived all the war and
domestic terror that natural habitats endure
I envy its stability

Traffic whirrs in the distance and I imagine the people in those vehicles are
frustrated and hungry and exhausted and still rushing to answer capitalism’s call
I couldn’t answer so I let it go to voicemail
I’ll check it later                                                                    unless I don’t

A slight breeze rustles the oak’s leaves and I take a seat at a weathered picnic table
The seat wobbles and the table’s legs shift with me because we both suffer from                
                                                                                                      imbalances 
that have not yet been corrected
that may not need to be corrected
that may never be corrected
that will not be corrected
that are correct

We find center together and listen to the birds chirp
A squirrel bounces playfully and a spider floats along its self-made silk

The river moves swiftly below the tranquil surface
Its current will sweep trash, microorganisms, vegetation, and pennies
with children’s wishes

I observe and take deep breaths imagining that I will swim to the bottom and find
the coins with ambitions too burdensome for the river to keep