Holiday Traffic

A short poem on holiday traffic

It’s finally time to go
I know I’m late but it’s now or never
One longing glance at the place where we had many a row
Some ties are so hard to sever

The familiar scents of exhaust and dust percolate my every pore
I breathe it in for I know not how long this will last
Grease, fuel and oil like blight blanket the celebrations of yore
Moving at crawls that are anything but fast

My eyes scrunch up in preparation for the task at hand
It is no easy drive this endeavor of mine
I sigh at the roads clogged and still stand
A red car, escaping the holiday spirit, lets out a plaintive whine

A strange sight unfolds as I accept my fate
A car so familiar holds up both sides of the narrow road
Damaged beyond recovery it is indeed in a sorry state
A dawn of realization hits me like a barbarian horde

Not only am I late, but it is all over
For what is slumped in the front seat is a sordid mess
A limp body like an angrily crushed flower
Is mine, with eyes open, vacant and lifeless