In a hurry,
Driving down the road,
To meet an important client,
Seal a major deal.
The car in front me moved at a snail's pace,
I fumed with anger,
I writhed with impatience,
I continued to honk,
No change.
I  inched closer,
Saw a small sticker,
On the car's rear,
"Physically challenged,
Please bear with me."
My anger balloon burst,
I cooled down,
I leaned forward on my steering wheel,
Drove slowly,
I felt protective of the driver.
Patience is a virtue,
I understood now.
I reached  for the appointment late,
The client too was late,
Blocked in the traffic.
Kindness pays.

my feet are taking me someplace I don't want to be.

they say
third times the charm but the fourth

is luckier.

traffic is
so pretty at night;
bokeh dance shrouded in black,
cars oscillating forward and back,
so enticingly juvenile are the lights.

at crossroads I
test the waters
concrete ocean;
I can stand on it.
I can almost taste
the blood
in my mouth,

I can almost wash
the blood
off my hands.

Choose another bitter morning routine -
whether from cold, coffee, or compression,
As in "man, I really need to just relax and decompress"
But without the last bit happening.
Choose to let it sink in until you can bite it off,
Choose the pressure because it feels like home,
Choose to dally, choose self-sabotage,
Choose kicking at the gears of your routine until
Something warps under the strain until
It fits like you never believed it would.
Choose the long way into work, a million faces
Nodding off behind their steering wheels,
The city's symphony still trying to get in tune,
Still trying to harmonize with, with, with, with
Whatever gets them to their job still sane, all
Trying to dance to beats only they can hear,
Howling out careworn verses they scrawled
By trailing their lives along the road:
The rhythm of the city is discord and hell.

Veins, veins,
length and breadth,
intertwined

beats to freedom
or desolation;
a terminus

lost on a circular.
An ebbing destination,
unchartered targets,

Follow the signs.
We are a one way street,
follow the signs

on software maps.
Stumped
by sequential lights

and us, caught
in a dragnet
within steely fish,

gasping for air,
choking on smoke,
bilious coughs,

hacking sputum,
gobbing phlegm globs
in interval gaps

within gridlocks;
nose to **** to
nose to ****.

The rage, the stares
the shouts, the finger,
the Grrr’s, the Rrrr’s,

the honks, the blares,
the bumper to bumper
expletive shares.

The rolling down,
the alighting,
the threats,

the fighting.
The falling down,
the separation,

reseating,
the rolling,
the thunder,

the trudge,
the stops, the starts.
Follow the signs,

follow the signs.
Robotic conveyors
for humans,

mechanical
fossil fueled
chariots,

grumbling, grunting,
wheee-ing and
screeching,

and screaming
and spewing
and chuffing

and guffing
black plumes,
air tarred,

veins, veins
clogged and bogged,
viscous, molasses,

liquid black blob.
Road fogged,
numbers logged.

Veins, veins,
follow the signs,
slow crawl.

Veins, veins,
follow the signs,
follow the signs,

sprawl.

Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017