The Fast Lane
1.
into a crowded elevator.
a forest full of them.
they cluster at bus stops,
wobble, hang on corners, call cabs.
sit slantwise.
like raindrops in a storm,
they splash everywhere.
no time to savor the rose blooms,
the evening orange streaked sky.
a happy hour Daiquiri,
tacos or coffee will do.
tired, a new set of senses prevail.
me, in the so called evening rush hour stampede.
food, TV and the tenor of a beautiful kiss
tickle my thoughts.
I eye my stop.
another day.
I walk blazing fast.
move like a man on a mission.
in flight
I ignore blaring horns and bicycles.
the #17 bus was coming fast.
2.
so God said:
why the heck didn’t you slow down?
you still had years left.
no - you can’t go back.
|
