Tuesday, September 23, 2008

What can, must?

The car snakes its way
Along the concrete jungle
Black roads hardly visible

Like a new bride's sharp tongue
Like an occupied child's call of nature
Like a virgin boy's first time

Moving along and stopping
As if wondering
"Should I really, now?"

Then thinking of the fire within,
"Yes, or I might just implode."
The car moves along.

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