poetical sounds

we are at an intersect and wait
for cars to pass us. sooner or
later we will collide again though
we’ve stopped traffic before,
crushed grills and totaled
windows— our hearts stricken
with a single force; and copious
headlights scatter its glass,
haphazardly, reminiscent of our
past collision when we first
fell hard like rain. slick and
slippery against the highway,
we barely inched forward if not
at all. such a commotion we left
that all cars hailed our entrance,
but cursed what remained behind:
broken tail lights, abandoned
bumpers off the center divider
stop all drivers as they look at
how we’ve crashed into each other

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About mr gahon

poet... writer... culinarian... i like to work with food that appeals to the senses, write words that taste even better View all posts by mr gahon

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