Cyndi K. Gacosta

Rookie - 842 Points (San Diego, CA)

Peggy Road

Down on Peggy Road
are rows of neat little homes.

All identical with their manicured lawns,
painted shutters, and shrubbery borders.

Thus, this makes Peggy the perfect place
for the perfect life that is a dream;
a dream that is Peggy's delusion.

In the morning on Peggy Road
there is a somber somnolence.

The telly is on low. The neighbor does the morning mow,
and on the patio sits a crow.

Eyes are weary and bloodshot red. There's nothing much to be said
for there are too many things in one's head.

The rooms feel empty and hollow. In the corridors you can
hear a man's sorrowful echo.

For those who work from dawn to dusk are use to the silence,
the spouse in bed is still asleep, the son hides like a sheep,
and the daughter, like a hummingbird, has fed and fled.

In the afternoon on Peggy Road
a pulse begins to show.

Children laugh and play, pious folks bow their heads to pray,
and household chores are done without delay.

Spots like red rose petals mark the white dress of little Gretel,
and Peggy tells others to hush and not to meddle.

Front porch gossipers say it's all just hearsay, and continue to flick their
cigs into the ashtray and watch their young sons' horseplay.

The wind and the trees give a sigh of ennui,
as the crow on the roof gives its horrible crow
over the sound of a whistling kettle.

In the night on Peggy Road
the neighborhood nods to sleep.

The shades and curtains close, but the silver moonlight glows
on a figure in repose from an opiate overdose.

Feelings that were repressed has now been undressed.
No man could resist little Gretel's warm breast.

The odor of flesh that had decomposed begins to grow
black grass between a sleepwalker's bare toes.

The night becomes still as death.
The residents sigh their final breath,
and their spirits wander without rest.

Drive down to Peggy Road
there you'll find neat little homes.

Look at their manicured lawns,
painted shutters, and shrubbery borders.

Can Peggy make our dream come true?
A dream of the quaint and calm life
On her suburban island.

Submitted: Monday, August 18, 2014

Topic of this poem: suburbia

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