...Carma Kar...

It’s the transition to 

the color yellow 

that bothers me. 

All the time that I 

was in that of green, 

I really didn’t think 

too much about it. 

Oh, I knew that 

I was accelerating towards the 

eventuality of a yellow, 

but whilst under acceleration, 

that’s all you think about, and no, 

you certainly don’t acknowledge 

   the concept of red. 

You don’t acknowledge red, but 

what would make you 

take note of yellow 

if not for the fact that its 

transition to red is inevitable? 

 

It is universally accepted that 

at the sight of yellow, your foot is 

supposed to move towards the brake; 

to initiate the denouement of your travel; 

to force a certain surrender to entropy. 

Yes, you acknowledge that 

another life exists on 

the far side of that red. 

That indeed, you are allowed 

to start up again, roll forward, 

achieve speed and continue on, 

passing through all those transitions 

from green to yellow to red to green, 

over and over, until you reach 

your final destination. 

 

And me? 

What if I refuse to slow down? 

What if I just continue to accelerate and 

blast through all those intersections 

until I reach my journey’s end? 

Is that less wear n’ tear on my 

four-ply tired soul? 

 

Oh yes… yes, and if 

there’s an accident along the way, 

do you think my karma has 

full collision coverage? 

Am I really so self-insured that 

I won’t end up in a 

beat up, junked out heap 

for the rest of eternity? 

 

There just now, 

in that blur at the curb, 

there stands a street preacher 

holding a sign which reads 

“Repent Now. Truly Save 

at Triple A Last Chance 

   Recovery Service.” 

 

Well I suppose it would have been 

nice to have gotten that 

when I had the chance, 

but who’s to say my karma car 

wouldn’t have ended up 

in the exact same location? 

 

Same location? 

Yes, there in this 

existential impound lot 

with someone else 

holding my pink slip.      

                             

©05 Jack David Hubbell