Inclination to Fanciful Absurdity

I was about to pass Milk Maid Lane,

taking the long way there

so I could run my fingers 

along Mississippi’s curves,

and noticed my fuel level hadn’t changed. 

My first thought: a miraculous intervention 

My second thought: the gas gauge is broken,

so I ridiculed my inclination 

to fanciful absurdity

but my half smile knew 

what’s worse than being ridiculous 

is to risk believing in brokenness 

if we are actually running on magic.