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A Sad Trail Through Mansions
March 13, 2019
Carving trails of rubber through a landscape of marble monuments
Greek splendor condensed into lamborghini cages and look at me i’m cultured
Each and every one gets up in the morning to twiddle their own trail of rubber, too
But they have to live in the belly of this beast they’ve created
Surely as the sun sets and the trees bend down in bated breath
Each one comes home late at night.
If you listen closely
You can hear the routine successive bullets seeking asylum in their heads
Muffled by the marble white behemoths
© Greg K., New Lenox, IL
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