Non-elected
candidates
live
on
on
bumpers
while
colleges
stick
to
windows
along
the road
People
pull up
in
parking lots at parks
where
you know
they
go to meet
interesting
new
friends
along
the road
Yesterday’s
machines
lie
scrapped,
smashed
and
leaking oil
in
rusted hunks
adorning
a hill
along
the road
You
can tell the age
of
politics by where
it
once parked itself in
concrete
slabs, patches,
potholes,
and
jet-smooth
stretches
along
the road
An
overpass overlooks
faster
means of travel
while
lot after lot of wasted space
adorns
the street like banners stretching
greed
along with disregard and
time
discarded
along
the road
Acetone
gas escaping
from
freshly-painted, double-yellow
lines
and little arrows, words
and
lines of various means, direction
and
import
along
the road
The
gaps between beginning and end,
no
longer the act of going,
cars
plugging along declaring:
“I
am here”
sit
back buddy
“me
first!”
along
the road
Sitting
in traffic
going
nowhere
a
sea of fleeing cars
thinking
of that time
when
movement and air
came
together
along
the road.
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