National Poetry Month - Day 29

Another late one...this is almost over, but until the end of today...I'mma keep on truckin...

I could be the Mad Max of the mornings
unconciously pressing the petal
I jerk forward, feel myself streaking
the pre-dawn feels collapsible around me
I know it's not, that there are things that might be sturdier than myself;
I haven't met them yet, still aware they might exist.