Traffic swarming, people teaming
enclosed within their vehicles
composed of nothing more
than panes of glass that shatter
and metal thinned enough to make
their safety incomplete in speed.
Yet under the hood lies the
of herds of untamed, wild animals,
increased and increasing the foals;
and drivers then somehow become
the stallions of a herd at base
no more than just instinctual.
Yet still they travel on,
competing for a place of primal power
driving through the hours of their lives
within a peak of rush-hour's known defeat
compelled into a habit of belief
that driving, of itself, must be complete
yet finding, as they reach
that their journey only just began
over fields of time that span eternity
while the sense of their confusion supercedes
the sense of their control that seeds
an inclination leading to more competition
where games are won and lost
decided by an unknown power
and lives too oft' are ended at a cost
too deep to reach and use the power
of the hours of their lives
to change . . .
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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