Rush Hour


I watch us

waste away in cars,

caged in by metal barriers.

Motorised cattleushered along

under charcoal skies.


We gaze out over the dead trees

- the skeletons of summer,

towards the horizon

and wonder what lies beyond

like prisoners in purgatory.


Splashes of bright blue?

Shades of fresh green?


A car horn.

The traffic moves again.