by Yankee4youSt. Albans, Vermont, USA
May 2014 749 Views 3 comments
Stuck in Traffic
Fast was spoken
Those harsh words
Whistles blowing
Fingers pointing
Commanding my attention
Directing me places
I didn’t want to go
My life… a big detour
Stuck in a hot swell
Of stinking exhaust
Plumes falling apart
Black clouds parting
Ushering me in
And swallowing
Me whole
Those harsh words
Whistles blowing
Fingers pointing
Commanding my attention
Directing me places
I didn’t want to go
My life… a big detour
Stuck in a hot swell
Of stinking exhaust
Plumes falling apart
Black clouds parting
Ushering me in
And swallowing
Me whole
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2014
About this poem:
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Comments (3)
if our lives are a big detour,
maybe we're not being detoured after all,
it's just our lives, until it changes
nice allegory. it's good to see you again
there are some advantages in having a broom