Park Rd. at Morning
Park Road is a dragon this morning.The rage to get to destinations, its fire breath.
Bumper to bumper its tail.
Ahead, two men are engaged in battle.One’s car bled through the boundaries and
threatened to bend the steal.
Their words are spears, a rusty tire iron
the dusty drum beat of war.
In his car, the hero sits and does nothing.It’s not his world today to save,
his mind a pan full of raw thoughts
lost in a maze of hedges.
He is the line that grooves this road
And dances all its destructions like a jig.
Everyday he is here, this wailing guitarfor a heart, and if he could open his throat
to scream for you, it would be this music.