Thursday, June 4, 2020

edge

pulling up tight
rusty VW bumper "riding the ass" of an F150
swerves - horns - fingers n'fury out on the roads

parking lot brawls
hauling lone golf clubs outta the back seat...to get the message across
left over heat
from a near fist fight in the granola bar aisle

cities burning
masks hanging on rearview mirrors
blue glove in the ditch

we are
on edge

2 comments:

  1. That's for sure. Maybe this is the transformation of consciousness we have been waiting for. We live in hope.

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  2. We are on edge...and the virus spreads. This poem is a metaphor for our crazy, out of control dystopian times. Life feels like one giant loser parking lot brawl. Your prose captures this well. Thanks, SC

    ReplyDelete

Thanks for helping with the development of Olsonomics.