The Freeway Sounded

by March 28, 2016 0 comments

like a distant ovation
in an arena where games never ended,
where life and death struggled
to survive, to find meaning in eyes
that blued like evening skies.
The sun reflected
this strange anonymity
against windshields
of cars moving but not passing,
a thousand bright silver bullets
blinking at once,
and I was the silence, the breathing
moment released before everything reopened.

editors note:

Gridlock in the middle of gridlock. – mh clay

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