Fetch My Skimmer
Slugs and snails line the highway,
Munching, crunching, drinking fumes;
Early in the morning, late at day.
A tunnel of black ahead looms,
Feasting on diesel, ready to growl;
Into the maw a lucky one zooms.
Compacted inside the giant jowl,
Hooter poised, horsepower stalls;
Bodies meet with metallic howl.
“Fetch my skimmer, freedom calls,
Flying, leaping o’er all that appalls.”
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.
