Silent Beat

by S. L. Butterworth - Pisces

Line of cars,
black like creeping centipedes.
Their windows darkened,
like one way pupils,
able to see out 
but not in.
They move to a silent beat,
unblinking, down the street.
I see their blood red kisses,
flashing, sparingly as they past,
and I can see their backs.
The brain is at the frount,
it has the pedals,
the levers,
and the big green button 
that makes it go.
You can see it,
if you squint and strain, 
a small pale blur,
with a black hat, 
a fancy hat,
it all it's finery, 
for special occasions.
Down the street,
I see people scattered, 
loosly, 
with their balck hats, 
and their black veils,
in all their finery,
and I wonder if,
unlike me,
they knew the dead heart 
of the centipede creeping.
and I bleed for them,
because I can see their pain
in the child weeping at their feet.
And I know the child will be 
better for it,
knowing what is in the heart
of those black cars creeping by.

Birth sign: Pisces
Date created: 2002-08-02 05:42:43
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:46:32
Poem ID: 69775

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