One Shot: the world is (not) flat

the gas pedal is the one on the right,
i think i will start all my poems like that,
seems some have forgot, creep &
i'm caught at the stoplight, in the bored

game, Life, wondering at the result
of the next spin, sending me round
the bend & if i have enough money
or tiles to win, as if there was

an end at which we could rest, sit &
count them, we just wash, rinse and
repeat again, until we cant even re-
member the original color of our hair,

a cover up of the road dust that collects
in the salt and pepper temple corners,
schizophrenic we seek speed in certain
circles, as if we could only get there

it would be ok, then slam on the brakes
before it slips away, but ground it out in
roundabouts, Look kids Big Ben, Parliament,
Look kids...close enough to see but never

experience, i don't want this, this suck-
ing exhaust in gridlock, perpetual tripping
around the Jones' block, while the clock
ticks & calendar flips, day after day after

so if you make as far as the parked car,
clogging the lane, have exhausted your brain
of dirty words to replace my name &
popped enough single finger bird shot

to block out the sun, you'll find my keys
on the seat, still plenty of gas, & a note
on the dash, "the game board of this world
is no longer flat."

One Shot Wednesday ~ A place where poems go to cocoon into butterflies, dancing like ballerinas in the warm summer air. Sounds lovely doesn't it. So go write something poetic, which does not mean it has to rhyme. Come Join us, today at 5 PM EST.