Critique Poem by Sinnaminsun Sinnaminsun

Riding this highway, no twisty turns or hikers waiting to hitch...
just a pretty, short stretch of not much going nowhere fast.
How he'd hate this drive, with regurgitated roadsigns
packed full of overused descriptives and verbs guiding through 'Monotony Way'.

I wish I could drive like him, picking up our souls' crusty edge
and weaving through the dark and light of everyday life.
No fear, as he ventures onward without a seatbelt
or his door locked...But I'm not that kind of driver,
don't have it in me I guess.

So, I safely drive where I've always been as he speeds by,
taking the nearest exit and downing another whiskey,
six feet under.


(7-12-07)