Brian Merrick Poet Dramatic Monologue

Need New Wiper Blades

There is a blurred brumous haze.
Afloat upon a invigorating mourning. 
Alive with the aroma of petrol and 
cigarette smoke.

The glass somewhat stained with a rich 
smoky grey. 
Raindrops like perspiration on a mother in childbirth. 
A broken window wiper beats a jungle beat. 
Across the clammy windshield.

Harsh noises of horns honking. 
Intermix with the wiper blades. 
To make a cruel early mourning remix. 
Of yesterdays one hit wonder on the radio.

I am not asleep nor am I fully awake. 
For my eyes are as heavy as the static rain.
I am blinded by the oncoming onslaught of 
lights and traffic. 
Like a metal stampede rushing at me. 
As if i'm a capeless matador.

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