The streetlights look soft,
soft, blurry, hazy.
Air wooshes through the open windows
and the speedometer reads 85 mph.
"That's a felony right there."
I'm not trying to use this car to impress you, darlin'.
I'm not doing these things for you to get you to notice me.
I'm not flirting outrageously every chance I get.
No, I'm not.
But you knew that, didn't you?
There are no streetlights in my neighborhood.
There are no ground lights either.
It's all pitch black and gauzy air.
The crunch of gravel reminds me of better days, dear.
Days when you weren't there, reminding of my own failure.
Author notes
If you couldn't tell, I chose "streetlights" as my inspiration.
In a list
A contest entry
- Because we're not sick of options yet. by Viva La Vie Boheme.
600 points, ended March 25, 2008, 17 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
.................
Comments
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i like this piece a lot, the break up of the lines and the quotations work well. the image "pitck black and gauzy air" ends the poem very well. you have a very unique voice.
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all I can say is, I hope you win.
Love this. Love it lots.
MORSMORDRE!
- The Dark Lady
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Wow. I really, really adore this. Seriously. The direct address makes it painfully personal, and I felt like flinching out of guilt, regret, and sadness for the guy! I can't point out everything I like about it, because I haven't the time and you'd probably get bored of it, but great job, thanks for entering!
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aww, thanks! I'm glad you liked it that much!
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