A car stops on the freeway.
A gloomy sky weeps
over this one, rotten day.
The man inside sleeps.
He dreams of honey scented
lotion on soft skin,
tobacco, rich and minted,
and a youthful spin.
Traffic, a blur around him,
unending burden,
a collision, then a hymn-
Radio sermon.
And the last thought that lingers
is, “please forgive me”.
There is blood on those fingers.
And more on his knee.
Exhaust plumes, shattering smog.
Our man pays a price.
No soul hoisted from the fog-
pointless sacrifice.
Crowds come to witness the wreck,
and to kiss their luck.
Like pigeons, they hop and peck-
squawking, heartless ruck.
Dollar Store goods strewn about,
diapers included,
the road runs red from a spout,
highway occluded.
Behind the line they’re whining,
“Will I be on time?”
Dead ahead, simply pining
for his wasted prime.
He’s killed his child, who’s survived
to view his remains,
mangled, hopeless, and deprived,
his blood in her veins.
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
A car stops on the freeway.
A gloomy sky weeps
over this one, rotten day.
The man inside sleeps.
He dreams of honey scented
lotion on soft skin,
tobacco, rich and minted,
and a youthful spin.
Traffic, a blur around him,
unending burden,
a collision, then a hymn-
Radio sermon.
And the last thought that lingers
is, “please forgive me”.
There is blood on those fingers.
And more on his knee.
Exhaust plumes, shattering smog.
Our man pays a price.
No soul hoisted from the fog-
pointless sacrifice.
Crowds come to witness the wreck,
and to kiss their luck.
Like pigeons, they hop and peck-
squawking, heartless ruck.
Dollar Store goods strewn about,
diapers included,
the road runs red from a spout,
highway occluded.
Behind the line they’re whining,
“Will I be on time?”
Dead ahead, simply pining
for his wasted prime.
He’s killed his child, who’s survived
to view his remains,
mangled, hopeless, and deprived,
his blood in her veins.