Crazy

It's five o'clock, she checks her watch, at last the work day's done Her forehead pounds, a coke is found, she gulps two aspirin down Walking through the parking lot, a cell phone to her ear Three calls to make, six texts must wait, until she reaches home A dreadful day, is worsened now, by a cocktail shade of smog Too dazed by crazy sitcoms that seem to fill her life, on an escalator going up or down, to nowhere in the strife A contrail stream of traffic noise, is brandished against her ears The snail-paced freeway travelogue, a prequel to the dialogue that sails into her blue-tooth buds, enhances all that aches The modem in her deep-fried brain is in a dismal state. Just blogs of malware, here and there, is skyjacked by the haze. She fails to see a taxicab, in the multiplex of cars A screech of brakes, a near escape, it's not her first mistake The rushing, crushing motorcade, can't stop to see her scars The escapade, the glitzy parade, no shelter from the beat The drum that pounds, the sounds that come, awake or fast asleep The docudrama of her life has muddied up her brain Dumbfounded, by the life she leads, is lost before it's found Some think, perhaps the gods are crazy, (at least that's what some say) I think, instead, it's not the gods, but folks who've lost the way ________________________________________________________ 1/6/15 For Contest: "The Gods Must Be Crazy" Sponsor: John Lawless