from high above them, I love them
but they are so small, a blip really.
The hustle and bustle makes a din,
a noise that festers within, and I
can barely hear it over the construction
cacophony. I’d bet money the traffic
is as thick as petroleum jelly
(it ties my belly in knots with rage).
At this stage, country living would
surely entice, it would be nice
to walk across the road without
dodging Dodges and Audis
like I’m playing Frogger. I’m no jogger,
I don’t own a bike and it’s a hike
to Midtown. I wish I could lose
this frown, for urbanessence has
gotten to me. Set me free,
or call me a friggin’ cab!
© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016
Poetic Asides April Poem-A-Day Challenge 2016 – Day 7: “Urban (Blank)”
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Yes Urban living on foot or by car is a dangerous past-time