Tuesday, July 1, 2008

The driver to my right

Contemplating a red light buried under the reminiscent remorse of a day.
Carrying a sales line, wondering, hoping, dreaming of today's wages, sublime.
Selling our souls for another night at home.
Winding down the day until the moment of peace and tranquillity.
The alarm rings, the outdoors sing, the soul of man brings him to bat,
For yet another swing.

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