Down The Street Poem by Frederick Francis

Here we go down that road again
The one that’s inevitably inclined.
Some bees and trees, curbs and birds;
Never sure what I’ll find.
I always hope in a new walk of life
The people will have changed.
Wishing the personalities encountered
Will be of a wide and dynamic range.

Instead there is the light
To which all the little moths flock.
The little creatures amused by
The generic topic of talk.
Each one thinks their original
Which makes them more the same.
It nears impossible to differentiate,
Were it not for their difference in name.

Please don’t get me wrong,
These creatures are kind and good.
They just have this inane obsession
With acting the way they should.
I find the more of them encountered
The further I regress.
My divergence from the common
Seems to be causing some distress.

I won’t be the next garden gnome
Simply peeled out of a mold,
I’ll be the unruly dog
Never doing as it’s told.
The thing about a street full
Of lawns the border on perfection
Is it’s the home with out a lawnmower
That will never escape detection.

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