mn
::
poetry
Entropy
Blasting sticky blister of a summer noon in traffic,
here I sit on the corner of Webster and West Mac
behind a smoking shit brown Chevy Caprice
with a rod knock I can hear over my radio
blatting out the overplayed "classics"
of last year's one hit marvels
on all six preset stations
(three of which are drowned in static anyway)
and when the light turns green my truck
gives that little grind going into first
and I see the Caprice has got this
faded "EXPECT MIRACLES" bumper sticker
and I think to myself
(and whoever else is listening),
"EXPECT SHIT!" and hit the radio
for playing stupid songs
and the old black men on the corner
frown and curse at the roaring passage of cars
slowly destroying the pavement
and the air
and you know that little
piece of mind that we all share,
seems like it just keeps on
getting smaller, dirtier, slower,
we've been running out of patience,
running out of time,
running out of power,
running out of all the things
our parents thought they had,
but I guess you can't really call it a surprise,
everything breaks down sometime.
Last modified: Oct 24, 2008 2:28 pm.
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