¡Traffica!

 

Warning!

Do NOT go home before 7:30

in the summertime

 

Long, hot, Indian

summer

Sirens wail

 

Beads of sweat

snake

down the spine

 

Traffic

climaxes

in a metallic graveyard

 

Anger and wretched sorrow

mar the faces

of so many suffering souls

 

The price of getting from

point A

to point B

 

has left us to endure

the better part of lives for some

substantial losses for any

 

be it driver, cyclist, pedestrian

green rider of mass transit

for none can escape

 

the infiltration of greed

the few, over the many

rule from the shadows

 

Their insatiable laughter

only a distant

echo

 

O! Plato knows

and so

let us bake

 

in our rocket-tombs

almost, not quite, for eternity

the baron's sale

 

 

 

Leila Bejanpour