Tuesday, February 07, 2012

exhaust


exhaust belches from midnight rigs,
as I sail through the greens,
I feel the past turn to plastic,
as I catch up to the traffic,

I try to pull more moments,
from our small moments,
but our small moments don't hold much more,
than a long, empty hallway,
or cold, deserted highway,

I try to stall time,
with a joke,
or a line,
but nothing comes to mind,

so I watch you from the window,
after you slip out the door.










4 comments:

Fisheye Lens said...

Time can be as malleable as we want it to be. A lot can be mined from those mini-bytes of memory. Good stuff.

Old Ollie said...

My dad brought me some old pics from '89.

Those old time images rattled me a bit...those small moments.

Ben said...

Outstanding. Midnight rigs.

dim said...

solid.