i want to drive away from this.
i won't be back.

Exit 129.

we spend on average
six months of our lives waiting
for red lights to turn green,
for someone to tell us
it is ok to go.

i won't yield this time, jaywalker,
drag racer, gas guzzler, backseat
driver. i will share my road
with you if you know what
forever feels like
and your stereo still works.

let's you and me find
city lights, median strips, and
railroad crossings. i will be trainwreck
and you will be road rage.
we will roll our windows down,
roll our jeans up,
and count stars.

we will take these numbered exits
to dark beaches and forget our
old lives. we will be born again beneath
a bypass, and if our car breaks down
we will leave the keys in the ignition
and walk.

i will not waste my life at
stop lights, waiting for
someone else to tell me
i will be ok.

Poetry by Inked.
Read 1415 times
Written on 2007-03-04 at 16:26

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Ivan R
This poem is vivid, interesting and cool ... just, great

i like this a lot. i like its assertiveness.