The angry lights in the back of the commuter buses
tumble in succession; they
slide behind tree branches
They flicker in circles
like a New Jersey Carnival-
self-effacing and knowing
they are just a cheap flame.
At the end of the tunnel
instead of heaven there are cars
huddling tighter and tighter
milky white headlights
shuddering together
So the whole curve becomes
pearls on a loose string
the things we notice, while hiding a blush...
~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~
I'll thank you, sir, to stop casting elisions on my character... <--More Poetry
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