Jitters

A mile, a mile, a mile a minute –

My thoughts race, rip and run
(Will you stop it

With the radio static already?!).

Wind whips in my face;

My heart begins to race.

The eyes lose their focus

And I become a zombie—

Undead and “about to die,” with

A headache to last a thousand years;

The warmest day turns bitter cold

Within the second. Then—

I come alive again

And I fall to the floor.

My mind comes rushing back

With solemn reflection.