Poetry: Unsentimental Journey

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Spa music drones in surround, covering

The drone of the engine like a cocoon

For a dying moth that will never dance

Orgasmically before the white light.

The other drone, in semi-consciousness,

Awakens to the stench and scream of brakes,

Finds his hands already clenched tight from dread

Of the thing that waits at the road’s dead end.

Changing lanes, choosing to avoid quick death

For the tamer option of wasting life

In a sea of trivia, in a world

Without significance, free from all hope.

Having chosen, he turns into the lot,

Parks the car, sighs, and enters the workplace.

 

Photo Credit: © Dawn Allynn | Dreamstime.com Commute

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