B singular--
(background music for poem: begin with Horse With No Name by America,
the La La parts, then hit shuffle.)
the La La parts, then hit shuffle.)
Glorious thrusters hiss through thin air as a red-faced tot
behind, kicks a tizzy-fit on a maiden economy power trip.
Shuttling at capacity, crawling and conducted, destinations
controlled. It’s palpable one, or many, needs a shower trip.
Even keeled, chugging towards the horizon, never acquired,
bundled bald and blue-haired directed activities every hour, trip.
Serving number thirty two, I’m one hundred and one in the que,
a din like gregarious locusts, swarm-in-from-out-of-towners trip.
Looking left, then right. Diana, que of one, in a mod tin Lizzy beast,
chewing breezy byways, destination unknown horsepower trip.
Comments
Post a Comment