Seconds are measured in colors I know.
It's clearly visible, and it works when people,
cars - grinding, pushing, hard, graceful.
But molasses pours across flat,
rock grade - black turns as we yield to other
clever headlights - boggled and
licensed to magically appear after work.
Capitalize on them, you see - cleverly.
Sprinting he goes, driving his steed
hard past sagebrush.
Pedestrian it is, taxing each metal and plastic in line.
So nice to see you.
But I never I knew you - and don't,
as we stare in space, normally pleasant.
Accelerate and nab that green, weeds grow
companion to tires.
Gasoline barters - smelly as it sits patiently
burning holes in drivers.
They dare to pour honey when water will do,
for vacuums are filled with precise eddies.
That light deserves to die.
© 2013 Larry Ingram
Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.