Idle, 2021

Traffic nudges my car ahead,

for a half hour, I do nothing but watch 

migratory patterns of metallic beasts

splutter and groan depositing soil and rocks.

For a half hour, dinosaurs roam the earth,

and my car, idle, is as vulnerable  as the vehicle ahead of me, as the one behind.

Then, at last, I’m flagged through.

clanking and spluttering,

no longer at risk of extinction.

Obsolescence is another story.

Poem by John Grey

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