Wednesday, April 13, 2011

National Poetry Month 2011, Day #13: Light Rail Commute Home on Game Night

What's so funny
about a bony elbow
in the ribs?

Everyone has somewhere to go tonight.
Everyone only has one way to get there.

Poets may find some symbolism
in humanity sharing a means
more than an end,

in its unity through the journey,
not the destination.

So I must not be a poet,
because I am not amused
by this pressing of flesh,
this breathing on my neck,
the uneasy women --

Hey, we're all victims here, lady.
I don't want me touching you, either.

Of course, everybody else
is on an amusement park ride.
No, I won't take your picture.
This isn't a field trip.
It's my commute home.

When the light rail turns,
it looks like an elbow, too,
poking the city in the ribs.

At least the city has
a good sense of humor about it.

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