Raindrops splatter windowpanes, split the skin.
Scalpels in pointed grass, sterile instruments.
Pitter-patter pavement, needles and pins,
Stoplights flood code red, numbed by anesthesia.
Wipers squeak, gurney wheels on slick vinyl.
Branches breathe toxins, pensive preparation.
Drips wrung from a full-soaked surgical sun
splatter the top of the mobile operation.
Gray matter runoff and vital organs.
Broken asphalt blurs a deep depression.
Count backward over the final pothole.
Steer straight towards a sedentary life.
Commute to stay alive.
Tunnel vision, final drive.
© 2022 | K.Hartless
A pseudo-slipstream sonnet that I wrote on a stormy day, water splattering car windows in a jam waiting for a crash to clear. I’d love to read your reactions.