Laughter, with Traffic

Winding like fiberglass earthworms through the streets,

twisting the words of Pretenders into laughter,

the golden rays halo your mischievous eyes, crystalline with resolve,

a jet pack lifting our dampened spirits above the steel centipede,

our mundane wagon train; and the light, anterior to the tunnel

gleams with stoplights, green well past the milky way,

the tiny flecks of gold along the path, breadcrumbs leading me

along a winding path where two wrinkled forms recline on a cliché

porch swing, white picket fence overrun by yellow grass,

their faces are familiar melted candles with massive upward creases

above their mouths, they sit in nostalgic repose, remembering

how a Valentine’s traffic jam couldn’t put a dent in their momentum.


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