The Madness Starts
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I'm awakened by the scream of steam
from a spicy coffee-scented dream.
Sleep can't ignore that piercing sound,
nor the scent of fragrant beans fresh ground.
Knowing that the day's schedule is tight,
I head for work while traffic's still light.
For the city crawls at its peak rush,
and many cars get caught in the crush.
Bumper to bumper, the madness starts,
jostling for position stresses hearts.
And when hot engines stall, tempers flare,
drivers get mad and begin to swear.
A serpentine line of rust and paint
slinks forth, fueling constant complaint.
And exhaust fumes seep into the car
as it creeps ahead, windows ajar.
Flashing brake lights, or a honking horn,
invites the finger and instant scorn.
Time inches forward trying to pass
flattened tires and shards of broken glass.
I arrive safely, despite the squeeze,
and parking my car, tensions ease.
Later, I'll need to fight my way back,
or leave early, and beat the rat pack.
(Rhyme)
10/17/2017
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2017
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