Re: commuter

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Angela Roquet

David Bowie escapes the radio
his static and “these Golden years”
crackle the brittle cones
“life’s taking you nowhere” you sing along
inside a ride stuck in the tide of traffic
cynics in Civics dragging you backwards
when the other lanes shoot forward
dust dances on the dashboard
as do your eyes over of a beautiful blonde
who’s gone with the moment
and the music isn’t loud enough
to catch her, or clear the accident
drown the sirens
wailing in the years of the living
failing in the ears of the dying