Moan of windshield wiper
horror, falling rain, gray roads
of I-95 sad trip back-
to-back, haven't rested in
years of immeasurable 137 miles
of road life between bridges and
missing most things on
tumbling wheels of 3 hour time,
never catching up,
I am a forgotten ghost
forging nothingness
I've become meaningless
I wish to drop everything
I've written into the great lake of fire
Bus pulls up in Baltimore
too dark to see, I don't get off
there's an hour to go on this
empty coffin, the rain is
slowing down.
No comments:
Post a Comment