"the return journey" | a poem

Glinting steel collides with slippery watercolors
fighting for territory on the sides of buildings
along the interstate.

And

Feeling especially reverent,
I close my eyes to pray,
but remember I am behind the wheel.

Inspiration always comes at the most inopportune times.

The red lights wink,
swaying with the wind,
casting disapproving glances
off the standing water in the intersection
where our lives cross.

Thinking a thunderstorm might do the trick,
a kick to the old clunker,
I pick up my pencil to start writing,
but my pencil is a spoon
and my chili is getting cold.