Lost in Time Clockworks, Saint George, Utah

It’s the vastness of the small amazes me.
Driving down the interstate from Salt Lake
To Hurricane to pick up daughter, I saw
A white truck’s rear roof corner shining
In the morning sun as my car momentarily,
Coincidentally synchronized in parallel
And both vehicles rushed down the road
Together, paired in seemingly fixed relation.
My eye was caught and distracted, perhaps
Dangerously, by a small scuff mark up high,
Just below the edge of the truck’s roof.
For a brief space of time I was mesmerized.
I could sense my whole body tilting
Into the enormous numbers of atoms
And the proportionally much greater voids
Between the subatomic wave-particles,
Measurable millions and millions of them,
That made up those trivial scratch marks,
Forming no particular pattern or omen, all
Smaller than my fingers. I felt dizzy with it,
The size and scope of the inconsequential.
And then our invisible tether uncoupled,
And the two vehicles moved out of sync,
And my word-mind snagged on the sign
In black letters on the white truck’s side:
“Lost in Time Clockworks, Saint George, UT.”