Subversion is a Lonely Pursuit

The cocktail hour's some way off. Too bad.
The will to be productive breathed its last
An hour ago. The lawn's unmowed.
I should have mowed it, but I rode my
Bike instead, a quick sprint to 130, then
A steady 95 past people moving much
More slowly, drones in monochrome
Machines, most likely headed back toward
Home from service jobs which aren't worth
Doing. I'm the single spot of color? I'm
The bolt of chaos rattling “things as they're
Supposed to be?” How sad is that? I'm dull
Myself. I'd like to have some allies in my
Efforts to awaken those who sleepwalk through
Their dreadful lives, but no one's ever at my
Side, and, so, I fidget, waiting for
The cocktail hour to come.




Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 28 times
Written on 2021-05-11 at 23:59

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