Suburbia crawl (a poem)

Semi-random thoughts as I drove around this afternoon, doing errands…

I feel low
as I drive past
new experiences
in apartment living

clubs
I wouldn’t mind joining
because they would never have me
as a member

There’s not much dirt
in suburban sprawl
My knees and elbows
are bloodied, just the same

In these dark days of sun
I don’t belong

I can get up to 50
by the bottom of the hill
but still have to give it some gas
to get back to the top

People who can afford to buy in
from the 900,000s
have no problems
with a premium of 50 cents per gallon

In my 14-year-old car
I drive on through

It’ll all come down to
a lottery ticket
or sudden collapse
That’ll be my ‘in’

For now
the spread goes on without me
as if manifest destiny
were still a thing

but turned back on itself
suburbia abhors a vacuum at its center

(2 July 2017)

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