finally, everything died. if i'd known then where things would stand almost twelve years later, perhaps i would have found some modicum of comfort. but then again, i would likely be an entirely different person, and i'm too proud of who i am now to want to go in for that bargain.
Apparently,
there’s no more
frontier… share-able.
Stupid industrialists
trying to start a city,
a dirty, black,
sooty
city.
Cranes,
cement,
smoke
blow
haze into our eyes.
Can’t see,
don’t wanna look at
each other.
Super highway
we dare not cross because
we’ll get
creamed…
to smithereens…
by the super-efficient double trailer tractor trailers.
Horns
screeching tires
crash
cell phones
sirens…
they make us invisible and mute.
On either side of our fair highway,
we shout until we are hoarse,
not in the least
cognizant of the other’s shouts.
If I had the funds,
I’d rent a bomb
to destroy the highway
and all the interference.
Then, in the quiet hush of
post-Armageddon,
we’d look,
seeing each other across the expanse
of seething macadam,
and hear each other whisper,
“hello, stranger.”
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