SLOW AHEAD
A Poem by Ernest Hilbert
Just pick a goddamned lane. Come on, go, man.
Get off your phone. What the fuck, are you high?
Yes, go, go on, go, it’s green. Really? Jeeez.
In the late light the bridge’s broken span
Is spectral. Planes flash silver in the sky.
The shards of glass along the side are stars.
I’ve heard bad things must always come in threes.
That truck is in the lane that’s just for cars.
That guy just blew right through that sign.
The sun flares like summer even in the wintertime.
The day’s all wrong. The omens now align.
Oh Christ, you see, construction never ends.
Look, there, a flock of angry geese ascends.
Now see? See? That’s what I mean. All the time.
New York, George Bellows, 1911, Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington
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This perfectly describes the interminable roadworks and traffic on the way into Glasgow, and I am guessing applies to basically every city. Wonderfully frustrating sonnet
Well done. But there are drugs for this.