Traffic

Some things hit you and
like a speeding truck they..
..no shit,
really?

Mum told me
walk on the high ground away
from the mad crowd,
don’t let them grind you down,
but
I blew it away for a dime bag a day
and romp in the hay
now and then.

Ah
but we’re men or maybe some a bit more,
me, a bit sore, not looking to score
just needing some peace in my mind.

Perhaps it’s only when you’re fucked
you find
that the speeding truck
brought that peace to your mind
but don’t quote me on this.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.