THE DRIVER, THE GIRL & THE DEAD MAN

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

I poem I wrote after hearing about a man struck in a roundabout in Canon City Colorado.

After a long day at work, I went to the store,

I traced the isles of my local grocer’s like a puff of gray smoke,

I did so much longer than necessary but, just as long as I needed,

I saw everything on offer and, it was all just as gray as I,

I felt my overfull belly beneath my shirt and sighed,

 

On my way home, I passed a roundabout where a homeless man had been struck by a car,

I watched for a while as the driver, a man in a polo shirt and white sunglasses was having a lively discussion with the police while gesturing to his broken windshield,

A woman was with him (a girlfriend maybe),

She began to cry as the homeless man was covered with a sheet,

 

I stood there until the tarmac below me began to cook my feet in their shoes and, sweat began to pool around my thighs causing my two-for-three dollar underwear to feel even more uncomfortable,

 

Thunder peeled in the distance,

Looking in its direction, I saw a group of birds backlit against the coming blast,

 

Upon arriving home, I prepared my meal; which might as well had been a brick,

 

After dinner, still tasting shoe leather; I thought of them there in the road,

The driver, the girl and, the dead man,

The thinking left me feeling tired,

Like an old dollar bill,

Worn nearly to pieces yet, somehow still in circulation,

Feeling the melancholia set in, I decided to take in the remnants of the storm,

 

From my back porch, I heard the sound of water as it found its way off the eaves and, the made-leaden branches of trees,

The air was cool and, fragrant,

Somewhere on the street, I heard it call me through the hollow channels of a wind bell,

 

The world’s so damn beautiful, I thought,

But, its beauty walks hand in hand with all the awful things,

The bloody red nightmares, the beige butterflies which flutter through our day to days casting their vague feelings of unease,

 

The salt in the stew,

The color on the cheek,

The meaning to the words,

Its all so beautiful,

 

Exhaling deeply, I decided then to go to bed,

For I had to go to work in the morning.


Submitted: December 15, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Black Dog. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Black Dog

Still awful.

Tue, December 15th, 2020 8:54am

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