Traffic
There’s a shiny metal parade
Inching slowly into Edgartown.
Twisting along the narrow road,
Sun glinting off windows and
Glancing off the sunglasses
Of people inside the cages
Of painted metal and glass.
They itch about in their seats,
Craning to see the road ahead.
They honk their horns as if
It were going to do some good.
Some look resigned, bored even.
Some slap the steering wheel in
Frustration and mouth obscenities,
Raising their temperatures,
As well as their blood pressure.
Inch by inch, yard by yard,
Like a disjointed snake
They make painful progress
Until at last they reach
Their destination – the beach,
The grocery store, the theater,
The dentist -knowing the return
Will be more of the same.
Hot, tired and cranky, they mutter
Under their breath that
They will start taking the bus
And never again drive into
Edgartown in the middle of August.
Copyright © Barbara Peckham | Year Posted 2021
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