the thin veneer of
window tinting
along with skies of
roiling cloud cover
give early afternoon
a dastardly sense of
encroaching evening
ten lanes of traffic
already at a standstill
a frantic scramble
for a slow crawl towards
the drive thru line
that snakes around the
orange and white stripes
into the street and
around the corner
an over congestion of
toxic cloud spewing
machines driven by
the blank faces desperate
to consume the toxins
toy cars moved by the
hands of an invisible
toddler playing god
over a matchstick city
at the verge of a spark
long abandoned to boredom
clusters of trees form
an ocean of leaves left
indistinct becoming a
solid mass of unmoving
green surrounding the
bare patches of empty
gray parking lots while
the lines of pavement
have adopted the duty
the cloud bank leaves
and golden light streams
muted by the bubbled tint
and i see we are all
similarly trapped as we
stare out of windows
equally immobilized by
actions out of our control
the world keeps spinning
even if we cannot feel it
long acclimated to
the motionless movement
with absolutely no escape