Living at 55
It is all a matter of time
as he watches from the windows
darkened by years of abandon
an old cinemascope movie at twenty-four frames per second
a super high definition at twenty-nine
lives moving by at fifty-five miles per hour.
They come and they go without a sign
making not a trace upon the present
no memory of their passage remains for the future
no story to be told for these unknown ghosts
in a rush to reach the next stop sign
another supper with friends becoming strangers.
They hit the asphalt in the early hours
to slide by again as the skies darken
hoping for a smooth journey to their temporary homes
while some will crash into an unseen oblivion
remembered for a few lines in the morning news
most will merely perish asleep at high speed.
Fixated on the lights ahead, their dreams too are in slumber
fleshy robots they no longer ask those puerile questions
of those years when still attempting to survive
their souls have been subdued by the unavoidable race
intoxicated by the unbearable sleeping agent they call a life
they continue on the path unable to rediscover their extinct fancies.
Like this:
Like Loading...