Here's something you might be interested in.
Sitting in my Celica barricaded deep
in five grid-lock lanes, I sip
coffee from an insulated cup
through a bendy straw
and glance at the industrial towers
and smoke stacks lining the waterfront
south of town looming
in the outward bound mist.
The twin cranes blink
in the gloom and the Boxing Gandhi’s
CD I had chosen a few miles back
seems suddenly perfect.
“Find Your Thing” a National City billboard reads.
“Thrive.” I stare at it long and hard
and do a double take when the traffic
rolls forth, knowing
all too well the power
of thriving versus surviving. I do. I
look down at my exposed legs,
skirt hiked high, heels kicked off
for ease of shifting
and am seriously sobered
and sickened as I ease my bare foot
off the clutch and shift
into second creeping
along with the rows of cars
surging forth,
workers on route
to earn another day’s dollar.
I realize that I have returned
to what I had left
so that I might live,
have again committed
to balancing the mundane
with that which excites,
stimulates and ignites.
To survive by day,
thrive by night
when once
not too long ago
every day
was a Sunday.
Sitting in my Celica barricaded deep
in five grid-lock lanes, I sip
coffee from an insulated cup
through a bendy straw
and glance at the industrial towers
and smoke stacks lining the waterfront
south of town looming
in the outward bound mist.
The twin cranes blink
in the gloom and the Boxing Gandhi’s
CD I had chosen a few miles back
seems suddenly perfect.
“Find Your Thing” a National City billboard reads.
“Thrive.” I stare at it long and hard
and do a double take when the traffic
rolls forth, knowing
all too well the power
of thriving versus surviving. I do. I
look down at my exposed legs,
skirt hiked high, heels kicked off
for ease of shifting
and am seriously sobered
and sickened as I ease my bare foot
off the clutch and shift
into second creeping
along with the rows of cars
surging forth,
workers on route
to earn another day’s dollar.
I realize that I have returned
to what I had left
so that I might live,
have again committed
to balancing the mundane
with that which excites,
stimulates and ignites.
To survive by day,
thrive by night
when once
not too long ago
every day
was a Sunday.