Commuting
From that
airplane overhead
we must seem so many ants
crawling in unthinking lines
through the overgrowth
of urban sprawl
purposeless, uniform, undefined.
Through their
little portholes
how could they even see
that jerk cutting me off
with a smirk and shrug
his dingy pick-up
dented, unwashed, unloved?
From behind
their trays
with plastic cup and peanuts
they do not have to juggle
steering wheel, cell phone and mug
watching four directions
in alert, unnerving struggle.
Reading in-flight
magazines
they are spared the tense debate
of bumper sticker conflicts
promoting different candidates
in sudden lane changes
of defiance, faith and politics.
Securely
buckled, on they fly
in passive contemplation
while we risk our weary lives
laboring without consolation
in a maze of no escape
to survive from nine to five.
© 2004 Richard Sidy
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