Pale Shelter
i look out my eyes,
windshield wipers —
crying all the time,
inside.
the shy gives me the creepers,
living all the time;
buried treasure,
the shovel of survival, hides.
the teacher writes one word,
at a time,
on the enormous blackboard,
looming in my mind.
pretty...pretty...pretty
the violence in my history
destroying the self
not a believer
in books that “help”
disconnected, illusions looming
salesman tries to gimmee
some direction
it’s a one way road
out
my cheeks are red,
my eyes are blue
darkness finds me with you
the wipers fast, never stop
skidding shoes
wheels turning
spinning, burning
12/2/2019
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2019
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