Midday, Gwb Poem by Patrick O'Reilly

Push, shove.
The August heat makes the body sweat
And the ire rise.
On the George Washington Bridge.

Push, shove.
Towtruck, blue, burdened with a brokedown Bronx jalopy.
Silver sedan with suits
Stirring impatiently.
Idling.

Horns screech,
like birds in the hot jungle,
An Exhausted Traffic Choir.

The knob on the radio
Spun out of control,
Singing static Song static
A traffic report apology,
One more hour at least.

Push, shove,
Over the George Washington Bridge.

Push, shove.