5 O'Clock Rush

Life lingers lifelessly
Neon lights come on by design
Between parking meters
Homeward people stand in line
Subways violently surge to a stop
Carrying briefcases of sighs
Stacked like stale sardines
Hiding their troubled saddened eyes
Stuffed in a fish bowl world
Not being able to look out
Yet everyone is looking inward
Congestion settles in no doubt
Suits in poses to well programmed
Their etiquette weaves not a new thread
With daydreams in need of repair
One could be mistaken for almost dead
Odors collide with fragrances
Smoke stirs them into one
With all thoughts on the same track
Except that misfit concealing a gun
But the same ending is near
When we scatter like ants
In a few crowded minutes
I’ll be home watering my plants

by Alfred Ramos

Comments (3)

Your poem is simply devastating in its own ambience. It is rightfully commented upon that we are seiged for the hours that we have to work to earn our bread. Once over, we can do what we like and we do not wish that others interfere. arya
Hey Al: Liked those lines: Hiding their troubled saddened eyes Stuffed in a fish bowl world That’s where the poem takes off. Good poem Adeline
For me, this captures LA traffic to a 'T'. Well-written, but almost too realistic. It gets me going, 'grrrrr.' Peace, L&T