Wherever I Go

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This world moves too fast, and time—well, it moves too slow...

Submitted: June 30, 2017

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Submitted: June 30, 2017

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A A A


This world moves too fast, and time—well, it moves too slow

The rolling hills of a grey landscape are separated by stretches of black asphalt

 

A lonesome wind flirts with the dust, as leaves abandon the trembling trees

All is bleak, all is bland, and already I am falling asleep

 

There is little to be said for iron barred stores, with threatening alarms and bounties of goods

 

And the people who stroll concealing their guns, dodging the hats of streetwise bums

 

But don’t forget the ladies working their heels, stretching their legs like fleshy hooks

And don’t miss the men decked out in suits, hiding their rings and flashing their bills

 

A yellow light, a red light; I stop and observe

A malnourished mutt there sniffing the curb

 

I roll down the window and I can smell smoke

I glance to the left—old children with dope

 

Green light—move along, nothing to see here

It’s all the same wherever you go; it’s all the same, my dear

 

This world moves too fast, and time drags on too slow

 

The road is long and dark, wherever I may go


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