In The Path Of Totality

jostled by strangers
eating wilted lettuce
in the gloom
as the birds fall
silent

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Congested Area

Everybody in L.A.
Came out to welcome me today
As I was driving through. How sweet!
You’re lovely folk. Now clear the street.

Traffic

L.A. traffic has its fans,
I’m sure. Perhaps they’re folks whose plans
Are not enhanced by happening
As scheduled, so encrappening
The afternoon is quite alright,
But I’ve somewhere to be tonight
(Or by the morning at the latest),
Hence, I’d rate it less than greatest.
Angelenos are amazing
They don’t all drive guns a-blazing
Through their everyday commute–
Or waving signs that say Don’t Shoot!
I’m unarmed and unemblazoned
So I’m steering through the haze and
Smog in search of peace and quiet.
“Grapevine”…that sounds nice. I’ll try it!

Traffic

Two roads converged to one, grew wide,
And then expanded wider still
Till four were tracking side-by-side
Upon which four abreast could ride
Or pull the rest through wind, uphill–

What’s that up in the road, a head?
No, it’s a fork: The highway’s tines
Divide, and where the path had led
To one place, now two lead instead
To points defining tangent lines

And all at once, the two are three!
Too quickly to each overpass
And off-ramp have we come for me
But so it goes: A family
Cannot forever ride en masse

As two and one and one we wend
Our separate ways through yellow wood
And when we meet, a wall to mend
Or falling snow to watch, pretend
Less crowded roads are just as good