Bryan Corbett

Traffic On The 405 - Poem by Bryan Corbett

it's 11: 11 am
stuck, sitting
between Wilshire
and Sunset

it's a hundred and three degrees
my gas tank is nearly empty
I've had to pee
for the past hour or so
and I smoked my last cigarette
somewhere back around Balboa

'everything's twenty minutes away in LA.'

my ass

where the hell is everybody going?
where the hell is everybody coming from?
aren't there places?
they should be?

and what about me?

where the hell am I going?
where the hell am I coming from?
aren't there places?
I should be?

trying to piss
in an empty Snapple bottle
and getting most of it
all over my hands

isn't that Jay
in a '63 Ford Falcon Sprint?
aren't there places?
he should be?

twenty minutes...
my ass

Topic(s) of this poem: funny

Comments about Traffic On The 405 by Bryan Corbett

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 23, 2016

[Report Error]