National Poetry Month’s Poem-A-Day 30-Day Challenge: Day 4
SPARE TIRE
I am so tired of your constant questioning
the same thing over and over again,
wheels spinning like a somersault jokester,
a ballerina dancer with much too much stage.
You refuse to wager on the smallest bit of traction.
Are you serious in your quest for actual answers,
or is your entire satisfaction
the (pathetic) aesthetic of looking the seeker
without really caring about where you’re headed?