So Much Coming
Down the pike, seasonal traps,
and festive lures trundle in,
weave ways through orange barrels,
past Red Lobster’s neon’s
a surf and turf backwash of traffic.
Pumpkins drop dead gradually.
Bedside Halloween costumes,
seams worn to a frazzle, no longer dazzle.
Yet we cheer for the sexed-up masquerade
with its side-offering of ghoul-masked kids.
A sidewalk Santa fumes;
gives us the finger behind his sandwich board.
Shoppers both freeze and simmer in puffer jackets,
coalesce in electric clumps.
Strip Mall's hum and glare.
Plows push a gathering sludge
from here to there.
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.
