Traffic labored haltingly
On pavement bathed
In summer sun,
Pent up there and idle
Hemmed between a headlong
Sprint held lifeless
And this subsequence
Of brakelight stains
Like ranting pulses
Saying stop but crushing
Forward every fractioned inch,
And miles to go.
Miles of cut-short starts
To stew beneath a stone July
Whose end comes never
Fast enough,
Until it does
And I scream STOP
Into the windshield
Searing because I want to run
So fast and traffic has me
Rolling over every past
The wrong direction,
Like it shouldn’t be the end
But I can’t wait to hit the brakes
And turn around for you
To say don’t go,
Like I begged so uselessly
While I drove away.

#London #England

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s