Near Sighted

things can get old really fast...sort of goes like this

This lazy car
along country roads
using the ins and outs of friction 

to get by.

Sunday afternoon 

and half-assed moods 

are the latest fad.

We are like mannequins,
every aching minute together 

same faces and no new words - 

it’s all been said.

Our road transitions to gravel 

and adds more of a beat 

compared to the pavement drone.

I spot fresh road kill
inside out
spilling fleshy reds.
If I ever imagined a smell for innards 

it would resemble fresh-cut steaks 

from the grocer.

I look at her, speechless 

hoping for something unique 

as I feel myself start to fade.

I become a piece of yesteryear 

blending into the background.

Another plastic face, 

another crowd, 

another Sunday afternoon.