The arid highway subjugates the earth,
A monument to mastery of man.
Fantastic artifice: cement and steel,
The world enslaved and trammelled by its span.

A million ugly motors fight the road;
Retch bitter toxins from a distant star.
Miasma of a century’s exhaust
Insinuates itself in every scar.

Gentle infusions of jazz from the radio.
Engines stand idle, but there’s no particular
Hurry; removed from the concrete reality,
Lulled in his filtered cocoon, he’s untouchable.

The grimy shards of past disasters lie,
Statistical monitions of the real,
Neglected, on the asphalt. He believes
That nothing can collide with his ideal.

One Response to “Embouteillage”

  1. Skye says:


    The details – trammeled steel ribbons binding the earth and shards of neglected glass on the side of the road – create exactly the feeling you wish to invoke, while the juxtaposition of all that and the man, calmly nodding to the music while ensconced (trapped?)in his metal cocoon, is lovely and powerful. Excellent message.

    Thank you.

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