Traffic is flowing at parking
lot speed, happy isn’t on
the windshield, and horns
sound like seagulls fighting
over a single *******.

In the rush to everywhere
we sit in the nowhere any
of us wants to be praying
we’ll get just one more
car length closer to an exit.

The standstill bullies humor
dependent on a clock that
keeps ticking away any promise
we’d be on time for an appointment.

Sitting in faux metal plastic
we act like we are the only
set of wheels the pavement needs to feed.

Night and day, traffic

rustles around the silence --


of the park, the eye.

(Radio plays)

I gave you the land and yet you set fire to it.
I gave you the sea and yet you left it undiscovered.
I gave you the sky and yet you are too sore to soar.
I gave you the peace and yet you sold it piece by piece.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My beacon of inner light has short circuited.
Casted away on war torn waves, an empty vessel I display.
Yeah uh-huh, the beauty of life just laid to waste.
God’s forgiveness was never asked for anyways.
Soul by soul, purgatory’s trip was a Buick stuck on the freeway.

There are tulips in the gutter
perfect blooms,
destined for dinner with a friend,
they were meant for the table
but alas she was unable to attend

Shimmer gold, trail of starlight
Shepherd those along who form you

Rushing steps halt cold,
Crimson glare demands patience—
Time drips through still air.

the rush hour traffic
  draws  on udders of cloud
i watch  for rain

The flash of parakeets in the rain,
in darkest Ealing,
raise heavy souls away
from the drizzle,
up from the road
long enough to gift
a memorable
collision.