I drive twenty-two miles per hour down a road of twenty-five

Keeping it at a slow and steady twenty-two

Holding my pace and carefully eyeing the speedometer 

As I roll through a deserted college town 

A college from which I had just graduated days before the world got sick 

And we had to put it all on pause 

I coast, absentminded yet somehow fully present, through a frozen timeline

Twenty-two miles per hour

A gauge on a speedometer 

A single notch which in that moment

Indicated to me this:

Out of one hundred and sixty possible miles per hour

I was here, at twenty-two

A slow and smooth twenty-two

And isn’t there so much ahead?

And if the speedometer were a timeline of my life

Then out of some unknown variable 

Perhaps seventy? Ninety even? 

I was here at twenty-two

A young and daring twenty-two 

And after twenty-two

Isn’t there so much ahead?