Poem 20150326

there’s something wrong
with a road made of concrete
that forces you to drive
in a single
straight direction
as fast as you dare

–faster than the driver in
the lane next to you because
by god, he’s not going to beat you

in spite of the fact
that you don’t know him
and you have no idea
or interest in where he’s driving
or when he has to be there

there’s a lack of freedom
on a freeway
with its straining arteries clogged
by lipid, adiposian cars
all racing toward
one giant cardiac event