False Start Poem by Patti Masterman

While the sun shines in clouds or cloudless sky,
The street stays magnetic, two-poled
With the passing of the cars.

In our eyes gray reflections move,
Like false blinks, as each conveyance appears
Though we would never stare;
The cars are boring, without emotion.

They speed along to where we can never see,
They might all be going nowhere on a driverless track,
Merely circling round and round
To give life to this mut​ed pavement town.