Freeway 2025

I can’t see through the glare of the screen

reflecting lights back at me.

It was the sounds of the freeway

that led me here

The stream of the cars,

angry and awake at 3:00 in the morning.

Hurrying violently, 

metallic screaming

birds occasionally fighting back with song.

Confused 

Isn’t it night?

The time to rest?

Not for those living here.

Biting their nails and biting their tongues,

occasionally a cruel “noticing”

slipping through their lips.

Their fear of death and slipping fingers

leading to control clothed in kindness.

L.A.

I feel shaky, my hands quaky.

My skin peeling off. Bits of me blowing in the dry, hot wind. 

I speak the language of city lights and traffic, fluent in the rage born in that trapped feeling. 

“Don’t forget to compare yourself!” cries the city. “Don’t forget to measure your pain!”

Sparkling eyes and bright voices, speak in spiritual tongues.

But nowhere to be heard is the light gurgle of laughter, or the gentle ringing bell of a curiously asked question. 

“we should meet for coffee” he says “you can talk for an hour and tell me all about it”

before name dropping a celebrity to remind of his importance.

Streams of sounds pass, the revving of the cars the only constant. 

Chocking on my choices, my sleep leaves with my hope.