Straight Track

Pushed out past the screen door gap and drifted down to the driveway apron where the pavement levels off. Resting upside down near the curb was a clean royal-blue plastic bottle cap, light and ridged. Right down the center of the slab ran a deep, straight expansion groove scored into the concrete. No rush at all. I nudged the cap into the channel with my shoe until its rim sat flush within the tracks. Took an unhurried beat to eyeball the trajectory, then gave the plastic edge a firm, nonchalant tap. It shot down that narrow trench like a runaway puck, humming along the seam before knocking dead against the curb lip. That glide was poetry.