People in front of us
People in back
We are never alone
On this great grey track
From morning til night
We rush to and fro
Fast enough to forget
What we never did know
But then a great roar
Billows up from behind
Two paths converge
And we turn away in fright
We screech and we squeal
As all rush to be first
We howl at our neighbors
With no more reserve
Life grinds to a halt
As we claw our way out
As our neighbors close in
We'll drown in the crowd
Nothing left we can do
Except to comply
Throw curses at heaven
Or sit down and cry
The world has gone still
No escape from our blight
There is only I-80
With no exit in sight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem