Commuter

Pink trees reach tall with bare arms

Spare tires piled to the moon

Old records shattered and covered in dirt

Forgotten train tracks crisscross the earth

Clouds mirrored in muddy ruts

filled with water from the drip drop sky

Profanities purple and bubbled on walls

Slinking cat curled up so small

In the car are silent bobbing heads

Gazes glued to glowing squares

My nose on glass, my breath to fog

Speeding now, it won't be long

Counting houses with rotting wood

roofs collapsed, bellies missing food

We come to the limit, the line, the point

Where trash turns to gold, two worlds are joined

Bobble heads leave the train and go on their way

ignoring the people they pass everyday

the poor and the rich walk side by side

elbows bumping, stairs are climbed

out into the air, to the Emerald City

looking at their faces, I'm not sure who to pity

🌷 (6)

◄ Stormy Weather

Paper Route ►

Comments

Profile image

Aharon Shamaiwan

Fri 17th Feb 2017 15:24

Great imagery. I like how you make the comparison betweem poor and rich, and then end your poem in "Im not sure who to pity."

Profile image

andy n

Fri 17th Feb 2017 12:49

very good. really enjoyed this

Profile image

Juan Pablo Lynch

Sun 12th Feb 2017 17:00

'Where trash turns to gold, two worlds are joined' - genius
I'll be quoting you on that Alex.
The poem in its entirety is a work of art. It reminds me of a Resident Evil movie.

Profile image

Stu Buck

Fri 10th Feb 2017 09:52

i agree with suki, its bloody good, stream of consciousness style writing.

Profile image

suki spangles

Wed 8th Feb 2017 23:24

A lovely imagistic dream-like poem that flows effortlessly. I'm a sucker for this kind of stuff. Magic.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message