Black Flies Tics and Tolls
This year the black flies are ravenous.
To enter their habitat, I pay a toll in flesh.
I like a good steak now and again.
But I have to pay a toll to Bill and his Lone Star ticks.
Never thought a tic and a cow would be bedmates.
I pray that they leave my skin untouched.
I don't think that's asking too much.
I pay a toll to cast a vote
knowing greasy politicians
never keep promises.
The voting booth is a house of mirrors
with a clown spewing off-color jokes.
I pay a toll to fill potholes
to smooth the burning roads.
But the roads are worse than ever.
Where is all that blue-collar jingle going
I can only guess.
The last toll will be most expensive.
It's to pay for the vast parade of sin
that I often marched in merriment with.
My good black book is dusty and crisp.
I lack
faith
discipline.
confidence.
I'm a quart of a good Christian
I pray, half-assed, for forgiveness.
Just in case there's a hell.
I played the short game but not very well.
The destiny of living is an unmanned toll.
Even the saints and sisters have to pay.
So, I pay the tolls with little complaint.
I know very well the rules of the long game.
There is a toll for every devilish pleasure.
For every slinky, sweet, sultry thing.
That takes you further from heaven.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
