Staring through snowy windshield at the red lights ahead of me
I see the desperation of this daily grind
And in the back of my mind I ask myself
But why
Why the drive and the go go go?
This ain’t for man
This ain’t for people
This ain’t for life
This is for some too cool for school fool
Sitting up in their stony flat staring out at
The smoke and the city and the lights spread out in neat little lines on the move towards gray lives
Till the bell rings and lunch boxes open and they take a moment and munch on sandwiches,
wondering if they have too much gluten
The bell rings again, and they are off the thoughts and back to the grind
“almost Friday” they say
“you got it Bob” they say in return with hopes of communal levity
Till the bell rings again and they are back on those roads
Headed back to those homes
Ready to do it all again when the buzz buzz buzz of morning alarms
Drags them from sleep kicking them out to the streets
Where they drive once again
This ain’t life
This ain’t life
This ain’t life
With headphones in and Miles Davis on the horn, here is my poetic attempt in the vein of Jack Kerouak
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